Chapter 3 Buried Truth

The night carried a silence that felt heavier than stone. Sarah lay on her back, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling she could barely see.

Sleep refused her.

Every breath she drew was shallow, strained, as though her body no longer belonged to her.

The message she had seen earlier replayed in her mind like a haunting refrain.

Each word was a blade carving deeper into her chest.

James sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched forward, the tie at his neck hanging loose as if it had been tugged off in frustration. His back curved like a man bent under a weight he refused to name.

Sarah turned her head toward him. His outline in the dim light looked unfamiliar, like a stranger she had once loved but no longer knew.

Her lips trembled before she forced his name out. "James."

He turned slightly, brows raised, his eyes already carrying the heaviness of someone bracing for a quarrel. "What is it, Sarah?"

Her throat tightened, but she refused to swallow the question any longer.

"When were you ever going to tell me the truth? That the woman living in this house, the one I am forced to see every single day, is not only Ryan's widow but also the one you never stopped holding in your heart? When, James? When was I supposed to know?"

His hand stilled on his tie. It slipped from his fingers, forgotten. His jaw clenched, shadows darkening his face. "Sarah..." His voice was low, part warning, part plea.

But Sarah sat up, her voice cracking with anger and pain. "Don't you tell me to calm down. Don't ask me to understand. You let me believe she was here out of pity, because she lost Ryan. You let me bear that shame quietly. But all along, she was not a guest. She was the one you have been banging for only God knows how long. And you hid that from me."

Her chest heaved. Her hands gripped the blanket as though it was the only thing keeping her steady.

James dragged a hand through his hair, his breath harsh. "I didn't tell you because it doesn't matter anymore. That was the past, Sarah. Long before you. It should not concern us now."

Her laugh tore out sharp, bitter, laced with disbelief. "The past? Is that what you call it? When she sits in my living room every day? When she eats at my table and my son runs to her instead of me? When the phone you carry still glows with her messages? Tell me, James, is that past too?"

The silence between them pulsed with heat.

He exhaled sharply, irritation flashing across his face. "Why are you doing this to yourself? I told you it ended years ago. Whatever there was between me and Tiana is over."

Sarah shook her head, her eyes wet but fierce. "Then why can't I feel like it's over? Why does this house feel more like hers than mine? Why does Daniel look at me like I'm an intruder, yet run into her arms as if she gave birth to him? Why do you soften at her touch but harden at my tears? Tell me, James, if it is over, why am I the one drowning?"

Her words cracked, her body trembling with the force of them.

James turned fully now, his eyes locked on hers, his voice carrying a quiet authority that only deepened her wound.

"Sarah, I chose you. I married you. Whatever Tiana was to me, it ended. You are my wife. I didn't tell you because it had no place in our present."

Her tears fell freely, her voice breaking around them. "But it is our present. Every moment I wake up, she is here. Every time I look at my son, I see her shadow. Don't you dare tell me it ended when her presence mocks me every day of my life."

She pressed her palms against her face, her sobs loud and unrestrained. The sound filled the room, echoing against the walls until it felt like the house itself grieved with her.

James's face tightened, then softened. He moved closer, his hand hovering before resting lightly on her shoulder.

His touch was cautious, like he feared it might burn him.

"Sarah, please," he whispered. "Don't destroy yourself with this. There will never be anything between me and Tiana again. I married you because I wanted peace, because I wanted someone steady by my side. Don't let shadows consume what we still have."

Sarah lifted her face slowly. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her lips trembled as she repeated the word back to him, her voice jagged.

"Peace? Is this what you call peace, James? Watching me fight for the love of my own son? Sitting across the table from a woman who reminds me every day that I was never the first choice? Is this peace - living as a guest in my own marriage?"

Her chest heaved as though the air itself fought against her.

James's gaze held hers for a long moment. His silence pressed harder than any words.

Finally, he pulled her into his arms. His palm stroked her back in slow, deliberate circles. "I am here, Sarah," he whispered. "Believe me. I am here. No one will take me from you. No shadow can change that."

She collapsed against him, her sobs muffled into his shirt. His heartbeat thudded against her ear, steady but distant.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let his words stitch her wounds closed. She wanted to take comfort in his embrace.

But the message on his phone burned brighter than his promises.

She tightened her hold on him, clutching his shirt with desperate fingers, as if clinging harder could erase her doubt.

Her tears soaked through the fabric, each drop carrying the weight of betrayal she could not speak aloud.

In that moment, between the rise and fall of his breath, Sarah understood a bitter truth: his arms might hold her tonight, his voice might soothe her now, but the shadows she feared were not outside.

They were inside this house, seated at her table, lying in his phone, living in his heart.

And they were not leaving.