CHAPTER 3
1299 Words
Mia
Today’s the day I go to visit my mother, and with the dark circles under my eyes, she’s bound to notice something is wrong. All last night, I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, the image of him and Anna together shattered me. I tried to be strong, tried not to cry, but I couldn’t stop. Still, I know that once I see Mom, I won’t feel so sad anymore.
It’s only been two days since I last visited the facility, but I already miss her like crazy.
We had a close relationship when I was growing up, and that closeness carried well into my adult life. Being so close makes it impossible to hide anything from her. She always said I’m an open book, and she’s right—I can never hide my emotions. They’re written all over my face. But as long as I don’t think about Damon and Anna today, everything should be fine.
With one last look in the mirror and a deep breath, I leave my room and head toward the kitchen. Relief washes over me when all I hear is silence. If they’re both out, it would make things so much easier.
I have to stay strong around Damon, even though it’s killing me inside knowing he slept with Anna last night. It went on for hours, only stopping at three in the morning.
With every passing second, I feel another piece of myself pulling away from what Damon and I once had. Even calling him my husband makes my stomach churn.
It’s a reaction I never thought I’d have toward him. But after last night, he lost my respect, my love, and my kindness.
As I turn the corner into the living room, sunlight spills across the white leather couch. The clock above the fireplace ticks steadily, blending with the birdsong drifting in from outside.
It looks like it’s going to be a nice day, and if Mom is up for it, we might take a short stroll through the gardens. She loves looking at the flowers and watching the birds bathe themselves in the birdbath on the grounds.
She used to love gardening. Even now, at forty-five—almost bedridden—she still manages to join the group every Friday.
The smile on her face melts my heart every time. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my own lips.
But that smile quickly fades when I walk into the kitchen and find Anna sitting on a stool at the breakfast nook, arms crossed, glaring at me.
“About time. I’ve been up since seven waiting for my breakfast.”
What does that have to do with me? Just because she’s moved in doesn’t mean I’m her slave. I won’t run around for her or cook for her. She’s a grown woman who can take care of herself—I have to.
I point toward the fridge. “See that big metal thing with two doors? You open it and choose what food you want. Once you figure that out, you take it over to the white thing right there.”
Then I point at the stove. “That’s called a stove, in case you’re not familiar. It cooks food. I’m sure you know that—unless you’ve been treated like a princess your whole life.”
Most likely she has, especially if she expects people to wait on her hand and foot.
She stares at me, irritation marring her brow. I bet Damon jumps at her every demand. And with the way he is with her, it wouldn’t surprise me.
After a moment, she glares again. “Don’t you think I already know that?”
Hands planted on her hips, she steps closer. “You’ll do what I want, when I want. I’m the queen of this household now. If I say jump, you say how f*****g high.”
I don’t use the word hate lightly, but God, I hate this woman. My first impression of her was right. I wonder if that’s why she and her fiancé broke up—if there ever even was a fiancé. For all I know, she came straight from a psych ward.
She gives off that kind of vibe. The crazy b***h who wants to steal someone else’s husband. Yeah—that checks out.
Leaning toward her, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “You may think Damon will kick me out if I don’t do what you say, but he won’t. You may think he only chose me because you left. You may think he wanted you, and if that were true, why didn’t he beg you not to go? Instead, he let you leave—and he chose me.”
She falls silent, my words hitting exactly where I intended.
Rolling my eyes, I reach up to the pan rack, grab a saucepan, and pull oil, bacon, and sausage from the fridge. I start frying myself something to eat.
As I mix the pancake batter, she finally speaks.
“You’re just mad because he doesn’t touch you anymore. He saves it all for me. I guess you didn’t satisfy him enough. But don’t worry—I have everything under control. Just like last night.”
Her words make my body stiffen, the memory of the sounds from upstairs crashing back into me.
My eyes sting, and I know tears aren’t far behind. I take a slow breath to steady myself and flip the pancake, my hand shaking slightly.
I won’t let her affect me. I made myself a promise last night, and I intend to keep it.
I grab a plate from the cupboard and begin plating the food. With a glass of fresh orange juice, I head toward the table—
—only for Anna to suddenly burst into loud sobs just as I lift my fork to take my first bite.
Seconds later, Damon storms in. “What the hell is going on in here?”
“S-s-she’s making fun of me because I don’t know how to cook,” Anna cries. “She made all that food for herself, and when I asked nicely if I could have some, she told me no.”
I set my fork down and look at her with thinly veiled amusement. “Really, Anna? You’re going to play that game?”
Damon rubs her back before leaning over and snatching my plate away. I lean back in my chair, head tilted slightly.
“Here, baby,” he says, handing Anna my plate. She sniffles and wipes away her fake tears.
“I can’t take all of it,” she murmurs.
Damon looks at me. “Mia can make more food. Go eat—you have a long day ahead.”
“I was just trying to get some help,” Anna adds as he guides her to the table I’m still sitting at.
''Really, Damon?''.
He shrugs. “What?”
“You just gave her my food as if she were the most important person in this house. I’m your wife.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and Anna is hungry. You could’ve made her something, but because you’re upset, you decided to take it out on her.”
“It’s not my fault she can’t cook. If she wasn’t such a b***h, I’m pretty sure she would’ve had someone teach her.”
He slams his hand on the table, anger pouring off him. “Enough. I told you already—get along.”
I stand and give him a look of pure disgust. “I wouldn’t get along with her even if she were the last person on earth.”
Then I walk out, completely done with the entire conversation.
- Writer
