Chapter Three: Everything Changed
1813 Words
Two days later.
Serena spent an entire afternoon preparing Christmas gifts for Dominic — a pair of handmade leather shoes, a cashmere scarf, and the gloves he liked. She deliberately kept it from him, telling him she was going to visit her mother and would be back the next day, planning to give him a surprise. When she returned to the manor clutching all these things, it was already ten at night. She looked up — the lights in the house were still on. Her heart raced. Could Dominic have known she was preparing a surprise and stayed up waiting for her? She lightened her footsteps, the corners of her mouth already beginning to lift. Her hand reached for the door handle — and then she heard it.
A woman's voice, coaxing: "Dominic, will she really sign?"
Dominic's calm voice came through:
"Yes. She will sign."
Serena's hand froze in mid-air. She didn't know who the woman was, but instinct told her this was the worst possible scenario.
"I'm sorry... I never meant to ruin your marriage. I just love you too much."
The woman was crying, as if blaming herself.
"I know. It's not your fault, Vivian."
Serena felt her heart shatter. An invisible weight pressed down on her, stealing her breath, robbing her of every ounce of strength.
With a thud, the shopping bags fell from her hand.
Dominic's caressing hand stopped too.
The door opened from within.
Dominic stood in the doorway, his suit jacket already off, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, his tie loosened.
Behind him stood a woman.
She looked to be in her early twenties, with softly curled long hair, delicate features and a tall, slender figure. Her fingers rested on Dominic's arm; her nails were perfectly done in a nude pink. Her eyes were red, and she was biting her lower lip just so.
Serena had never seen this woman before.
"You—"
Her voice caught. She didn't scream or shout, but a fire blazed inside her chest, and she felt as if she were suffocating. Still, she hoped she had misheard, that she had misunderstood — that this was all just a misunderstanding.
Dominic stepped out. He looked at Serena with a complicated expression, but he offered no explanation. He simply lifted his hand — the hand holding a pen and a sheet of paper.
Serena saw the words at the top: Divorce Agreement.
"Just sign it," Dominic said, in that same calm and gentle voice, but this time it struck Serena as ice-cold.
"We're getting a divorce."
Serena's legs refused to obey her. She gripped the doorframe, her nails digging into the wood.
"Who is she?"
Dominic didn't avoid the question. He turned and gently pulled the woman called Vivian to his side.
"She's my woman."
Those five words, light as air, slammed into Serena's heart like a hammer.
"Dominic..." Her voice trembled, and tears burst out like a breached dam.
She rushed over and grabbed his arm. "Make her leave. Make her leave right now. I'll pretend none of this ever happened. I—"
Before she could finish, Dominic pulled his arm back. The slender Serena was thrown off balance by the sheer force, her back slamming into the shoe cabinet. Physical pain spread from her spine to her limbs, but what hurt far more was her heart.
"Sign it."
Dominic made an instinctive move to go and help her up, but beside him Vivian held him back. Dominic glanced back at Vivian and her belly, and in the end showed nothing. He simply repeated those two words, calm as before.
Then he turned around, cupped Vivian's face in his hands, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
"Don't cry," he said.
Vivian lifted her tear-filled doe eyes to look at him. "I'm sorry... I don't want to make things hard for you."
He bent his head and kissed her, right there in front of Serena.
Right there in what had once been their home. In that moment, Serena's world collapsed.
The sight made her want to grit her teeth until they cracked, but the raging fury that had just consumed her, the blazing anger — it all suddenly cooled the instant she saw them kiss. She slowly stood up, lifted her head, and watched them coldly. She didn't scream, and she didn't lunge at them.
Dominic released Vivian and turned back, meeting Serena's icy stare.
"Will you sign now?"
"Why?" Serena felt as though her throat had been scraped raw with sandpaper, a suffocating tightness clutching it.
"Why?"
He was silent for three seconds, then glanced at Serena's belly. "Because Vivian is pregnant."
The air froze.
Serena's hand drifted unconsciously to her own lower abdomen.
That still-empty lower abdomen.
That test report was still in the nightstand drawer.
That "ovulation within forty-eight hours" — the good news, the miracle she had thought would change everything.
A child.
He only wanted a child.
Any woman who could give him one would do.
Vivian stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on her own stomach, stroking it with an almost casual, ostentatious pride.
"I'm sorry, Sister Serena." Her voice was soft, but it cut like a blade. "I never wanted to destroy your marriage, but I don't want my baby to grow up without a father... Can you let us be?"
Serena's nails dug deep into her palms, but in that moment she felt no physical pain. She stayed upright only because she was leaning against the shoe cabinet. She poured every ounce of her strength into reining in her emotions, and spoke as calmly as she could.
"Let's talk."
He hesitated, then looked back at Vivian and nodded, not refusing.
Vivian said nothing. She made no protest, as if she deferred to Dominic in everything.
The two of them walked into the second-floor bedroom and shut the door.
Outside, Vivian stared coldly at the door, gently stroking her belly. She whispered to herself, "It's okay, baby. Everything will..."
Inside the room, both were silent. Years of a couple's bond had turned into a joke in a single night.
"I'm sorry," he said first, his voice hoarse.
Serena shook her head. She didn't want to hear those three words.
"Make her get rid of it," she said bluntly, without a trace of hesitation. "My illness is cured. The doctor says I can get pregnant. I only just got the diagnosis the day before yesterday. We can have our own child."
Dominic's face changed.
"What did you say?"
"Abort it," Serena repeated. She knew it was cruel, but right now she had no spare compassion for someone else's child. "If you absolutely must have that child, let her give birth, and we'll raise it ourselves. Give her a sum of money."
"Serena, that's impossible," he cut her off, flatly refusing.
Serena said nothing. She walked to the cabinet, took out the doctor's report, and gently placed it in his hand, as if it were a verdict.
Watching Dominic study the report carefully, Serena felt a complex knot of emotions — was she fighting to keep this man who couldn't control his lower half, or was she fighting to preserve this already-betrayed marriage?
Dominic finished reading and said nothing. She didn't know what was going through his mind, but he seemed to be weighing something.
Serena looked at him. Reading his silence, she already knew what he was thinking.
"I'm not signing it," the firm words left her lips. "I won't sign. I don't want a divorce."
Dominic seemed moved by her sincerity, and his eyes softened. He stepped closer and, just as he used to, gently pulled her into his arms. Serena's body stiffened. A wave of revulsion rose from deep within her, but she suppressed it.
"Let me think it over."
He still left, going back downstairs to be with the pregnant Vivian.
She looked at the divorce agreement, at the settlement figure. Dominic's signature was already on the line.
The handwriting was clear and decisive, as if these past few years had been nothing but a joke.
In the empty room, Serena was a mess. Her heart ached with an indescribable pain.
That night, she did not sign.
She sat on the bed, hugging her knees, curled into a tight ball.
She thought about many things. Five years ago, the first time she saw Dominic in the university gallery. He was standing in a grey turtleneck in front of a Rothko reproduction, and she stood three metres away secretly photographing his profile — he pretended not to notice.
Four years ago, she scrimped and saved for three months to buy him a watch and mailed it to his company.
She enclosed a card: "I know you have nicer watches, but this one keeps my time."
He practically always wore it.
And now, a divorce agreement — now it was unfolding before her, bloody and real. She was like a fly caught in a spider's web, and the spider had come for the child in her belly. She was about to be devoured.
Another woman now carried the bloodline the family so desperately wanted.
Serena's fingers habitually pressed against her own lower abdomen, squeezing hard.
Only two days ago she had finally heard the doctor say, "You're ready."
Not a trace of expression remained on Serena's face, but the tears still fell, beyond her control.
Her husband was in another woman's arms, asleep, while she was here, grieving.
What a laugh.
She did not sleep all night, until dawn.
When Serena came out of the bedroom, she caught the aroma of food.
Serena walked to the dining room doorway and saw a sight that froze the blood in her veins.
Eleanor was sitting beside Vivian, shoulder to shoulder, as intimate as mother and daughter.
Eleanor was ladling soup into a bowl for Vivian, wearing a smile more radiant than all the smiles Serena had seen from her in three years combined.
"Eat up, Vivian. You're eating for two now." Eleanor's voice was so gentle it seemed almost unreal.
Vivian lowered her head, her smile sweet and demure.
Three years.
Serena had stood in this household for three years.
She had carried Eleanor up and down the stairs every day after her knee surgery.
Every birthday, every holiday, she had carefully chosen gifts.
And now, a woman who had just appeared, because she had an embryo in her womb, received smiles, fine food, and warmth — even though this woman was the other woman.
Eleanor spotted her too, as if nothing were amiss.
"What are you doing here?" The old woman's voice was as cold as ever.
The icy words cut even deeper than usual.
She felt more than ever that she was the alien in this house.
Serena did not answer. She turned and silently went back upstairs.
- Writer
