Ch1: The Mistress
The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the house.
Alina heard it but didn’t look up right away. She sat on the couch with a book open in her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. The clock on the wall ticked softly, filling the silence her husband had left behind for days.
Then she heard footsteps, her fingers stilled on the page. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. Damian stood at the entrance of the living room, as composed as ever; tailored suit, cold eyes, not a strand of hair out of place. And beside him, a young, beautiful woman smiling.
Alina’s eyes rested on her for a moment. She noticed everything in a single glance; the way the woman stood slightly closer to Damian, the way her hand touched lightly against his arm, the quiet confidence in her posture. She was not a guest or a stranger.
The silence stretched on. Damian was the one who broke it. “She’ll be staying with us.”
Alina blinked once, then closed her book and set it on the table beside her. Her heart was beating faster, but her face remained calm.
“Staying?” she repeated softly.
The woman stepped forward before Damian could respond. “Hi,” she said, offering a small friendly smile as she extended her hand. “I’m Serena.”
Alina didn’t take it. Her gaze moved from the outstretched hand… to Damian. Waiting. Expecting. Demanding something or anything, that would make this make sense. He gave her nothing.
“She’ll be living here,” he clarified.
Living here.
Alina slowly stood to her feet. She wasn't as tall as Serena, not as striking at first glance, but there was something in the way she carried herself.
“What do you mean,” she asked, her voice calm, “she’ll be living here?”
Serena’s smile faltered a little. Damian however, remained unfazed. “It’s exactly what it sounds like.”
No hint of an apology. No trace of guilt. Just… the plain truth.
Alina exhaled. “I see.” Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palm. Pain grounded her. “For how long?” she asked.
Damian met her gaze without looking away. “I'm not sure.” Serena shifted beside him, glancing back and forth between them. “I don’t want to make things feel awkward,” she said gently. “I just...”
“It’s fine,” Alina cut in gently. Both of them looked at her.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes settling on Damian.
“If this is what he wants,” she continued, “then there’s no need for an explanation.”
Serena hesitated. “I really don’t mean to intrude...”
“You already are.”
The words were quite polite yet sharp enough to sting.
Alina took a step back, putting distance between herself and them. “Where will she stay?” she asked. “In the guest room,” Damian replied. Alina nodded once, then turned away. “I’ll have the staff prepare it.”
“Alina.” He called out.
She stopped but didn't turn. “Yes?”
There was a brief silence before he spoke again. “This arrangement,” he said slowly, “won’t change anything.”
“Of course it won’t.”
Later that night, Alina stood in the hallway, staring at the closed guest room door. She could hear faint laughter from inside, Serena’s voice. It settled heavily in her chest.
She turned away. Step by step, she walked back to her room.
Their room.
She stopped at the door, her hand hovering over the handle for a second, she hesitated before she pushed it open.
Inside, everything was the same: perfect and neat. As if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just brought another woman into their home, their lives and into her space.
Alina walked in slowly, her eyes moving across the room until they landed on a framed photograph. It was a picture of her, Damian and their daughter, all three of them smiling.
Happy or at least… she had been. She stepped closer and picked it up.
Her fingers traced the edge of the frame as her reflection overlapped with the image. For a moment, the past and the present blurred together. Then, she turned the frame over and placed it face down.
