Between Lust and Lies

Trapped

Dave’s voice: “No, like this. The back needs to be able to breathe, or the drawer will stick.”

Teyana laughed: “You’re so good at this. You’re going to be such a good dad.”

I stopped in the doorway.

The room was half-unpacked. Teyana’s clothes were hanging in the closet. Her shoes lined up by the door. Her perfume bottles on the dresser. A stack of pregnancy books on the nightstand.

Dave was on the floor, kneeling beside her, helping her assemble a dresser. Both of them felt like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Like I didn’t exist.

Dave’s hand was on her shoulder, steadying her as she held a piece of wood in place. They looked… easy together.

My hand gripped the door frame to keep from falling.

“What are you doing?” The words barely made it out.

They both looked up.

He rose to his feet, composed, his gaze locked on mine.

Something in my chest sank at the look in his eyes.

But I stepped inside anyway, forcing myself to look around.

Then my gaze snapped back to him.

“What is she doing here?”

“She needs to be monitored closely during the pregnancy,” he said. “The doctor said stress could harm the baby, and her apartment isn’t suitable.”

“So you moved her into our house without asking me?”

“It’s the only solution, Rhea. And you need to stop making this a problem. I’m making sure our baby is healthy.”

“And the only 'solution' gets to sleep in the bedroom near ours?” I looked at him. “The guest room is at the end of the hall, Dave. Why is she in this room?”

His jaw ticked. “This room is bigger. It’s closer.”

“And for midnight visits?” My voice cracked. “So you can check on her whenever you want?”

“Rhea, you’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I stepped closer. “Your pregnant ex-girlfriend is in the room next to ours, and I’m overreacting?”

Teyana stood, her hand going to her stomach. “Rhea, I know this looks bad, but Dave and I discussed it and we both thought…”

“You both thought?” I turned to stare at her. “You and my husband. You both thought?”

“I just meant…”

“I don’t care what you meant!” My voice rose. “This is my house! My marriage! And you…” I looked at the clothes, the photos, the way she was standing there so comfortable. “You’ve taken over everything!”

“No,” he said. “I made a decision.”

Dave stepped between us. “Rhea, you need to calm down. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m scaring her?” I laughed, but it came out broken. “She’s ruining my life, and you’re worried about me scaring her?”

“She’s pregnant, Rhea.”

“I don’t care that she’s pregnant!” Tears streamed down my face. “I care that you moved her in without telling me! I care that she’s in this room! I care that you’re standing there defending her instead of your wife!”

“Rhea, stop.” He grabbed my arm.

“Let go of me!”

“You’re out of control.” His grip tightened as he pulled me toward the door.

“I’m out of control?” I struggled against him, but he didn’t let go.

He dragged me into the hallway and shut the door behind us.

“You need to calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shoved him. “You moved her in without telling me…”

“Rhea…”

I couldn’t look at him anymore.

I turned away, trying to steady my breathing.

That’s when I saw it.

The door at the end of the hall.

The room I had locked two years ago.

It was slightly open. Light spilled into the hallway.

My chest tightened as I started walking toward it.

“Rhea, where are you going?” Dave called behind me.

I didn’t answer.

I pushed the door open and everything inside me stopped.

The yellow walls were replaced with soft pink.

The crib I had bought—assembled myself, smiling like it was finally happening—gone.

In its place was a new one..

My mother’s quilt—gone.

Everything I had put into this room… gone.

Replaced.

Like none of it had ever existed.

My knees buckled. I caught the door frame as I dropped.

“Rhea.” Dave’s voice behind me.

I couldn’t look away from the walls.

“When did you do this?” My voice came out hollow.

“This week,” he said. “While you were away. I thought it would be easier if it was already done.”

“Easier.” I let out a shaky laugh. “You thought erasing me would be easier?”

“I didn’t erase you.”

“Yes, you did!” I forced myself up, my whole body shaking. “I painted these walls. I picked that crib. I stood in this room and imagined…” My voice broke. “And you just painted over it like it meant nothing.”

“Rhea, you locked this room. You couldn’t even walk past it.”

“Because it hurts!” I shouted. “Because every time I looked at it, I saw everything I couldn’t give you!”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” I stepped closer, my vision blurred. “Do you know what it feels like to see her nursery where mine was supposed to be?”

He didn’t answer.

“The baby needs a room,” he said finally. “And you weren’t using it.”

The words hit hard.

“So you gave it to her.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It is.” I moved past him into the hallway. “I failed, so she gets everything. My room. My space. My life.”

“Rhea…” He grabbed my arm again.

“Let go of me!” I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking just fine!” I snapped. “You want her here. You want that baby. You want the family I couldn’t give you!”

Teyana stood at the end of the hall, one hand on her stomach.

“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.

“Get out,” I said.

“Rhea, maybe we should all just…”

“Get out!” My voice echoed through the house. “Get out of my sight!”

She froze.

“It’s fine,” Dave said. “Go downstairs.”

She hesitated, then turned and left.

The second she disappeared, he pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door.

“You need to stop,” he said, his voice firm. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“Of course it isn’t,” I laughed bitterly. “Nothing I feel matters, right? As long as the baby is okay.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you meant!”

He looked at me, steady.

“What you need,” he said, “is to accept reality. Teyana is staying. For the pregnancy.”

He paused.

“That’s final.”

“You don’t get to make that decision alone.”

“I just did.” His voice was cold.

We stood there, staring at each other.

This man standing in front of me didn’t feel like my husband anymore.

“Then I’m calling my lawyer,” I said quietly.

His expression shifted. “Rhea, think about what you’re saying.”

“I’m done.” I moved toward the nightstand. “With this. With you. With all of it. I want a divorce.”

He grabbed my wrist. “You’re not making this decision tonight.”

I yanked my arm free and hit the wall behind me. “Don’t touch me.”

“Rhea, the prenup…”

“I don’t care about the prenup!” My voice cracked. “I don’t care about your money or this house or anything! I just want out!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Then let me be.” I backed toward the door. “Call me whatever you want. Just stay away from me.”

I stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind me.

“Rhea, open the door.”

I shoved the key into my pocket and headed to the guest room at the end of the hall, pushed the door open, and locked it behind me.

My legs gave out the moment I heard the lock click.

I don’t know how long I sat there.

Long enough for the screaming in my chest to fade into something hollow.

Long enough for the tears to dry.

Long enough to remember I needed to do something.

I looked at the nightstand for a landline.

I crawled to it. My hands were shaking so badly I hit the wrong numbers twice before I got it right.

It rang once. Twice…

“Beatrice Adams speaking.”

I cleared my throat.

“Beatrice. It’s Rhea.”

“Mrs. Ashton?” Her tone shifted immediately. “Are you alright? You don’t sound…”

“Can you connect me to Phil Spencer, please? It’s urgent.”

“Of course. One moment.”

There was hold music.

Then…

“Mrs. Ashton?”

“James,” a sniffle escaped me. “I need divorce papers. Today. Right now.”

“Rhea.” His tone shifted, careful now. “Take a breath. Talk to me. What happened?”

“Dave got his ex-girlfriend pregnant and moved her into our house.”

“James?”

“I’m here.” He exhaled. “Rhea… okay. I hear you.” He paused. “That’s serious, but before we go any further… there’s something you need to know.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “What?”

“The prenup.” He cleared his throat. “Specifically, the cooling-off clause.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that if you file for divorce, you’re legally required to remain in the marital home for a minimum of three months before anything can be finalized.”

My stomach dropped. “And if I don’t?”

“You forfeit the collateral tied to the agreement.”

My voice came out slower. “What collateral?”

“Your mother’s property, Rhea.”

Everything inside me went still.

“No…” I whispered.

“You signed it into the agreement,” he continued gently. “Your father included it when the partnership was negotiated. If you violate the clause, ownership transfers to the Ashtons.”

My hand started to shake.

“That house…” My throat tightened. “That’s the only thing she left me.”

“I know.”

“So if I leave…”

“You lose it. Immediately.” He didn’t sugarcoat it this time. “And there are additional financial penalties written into the contract. Enough to make it very difficult to fight this legally.”

I felt a throbbing pain in my chest.

“I didn’t even know…” My voice broke. “I didn’t know I signed that away.”

“You trusted the process,” he said quietly.

I laughed, but it came out hollow. “I trusted the wrong people.”

“I’m trapped.” The words fell out before I could stop them. “I’m trapped in this house. With them. For three months.”

“I’m looking for loopholes,” James said. “There may be provisions we can use, ways to challenge it.”

“Three months, James.” My voice cracked. “She’s going to be here. Every day. In my house. In that nursery. And I just have to stand there and watch?”

“I know,” he said in a low tone. “I know this isn’t fair.”

The phone slipped slightly in my hand.

“I’m coming to you tomorrow,” he continued. “We’ll go through everything properly. You’re not alone in this, Rhea. We’ll figure something out.”

I didn’t answer.

“Rhea?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said quietly.

I hung up.

I pulled my knees to my chest, pressed my forehead against them, and let myself cry.

Not the ugly, hysterical crying from earlier. Just quiet tears, the kind that come when you’re too exhausted to fight it anymore.