Chapter 2 Fractures Beneath the Surface

Luna stood at the kitchen window, staring out into the dark night, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The rain was pouring down in sheets, the sound of it heavy against the windowpanes. It mirrored the storm brewing inside her-a maelstrom of rage, hurt, and betrayal. She had long since stopped looking for the man she once adored. Darius had stopped coming home before midnight, stopped pretending that things were fine, stopped pretending he even cared.

Her reflection in the glass was distorted by the rain, much like how she felt-fractured and unrecognizable. She wasn't the woman she had been when they met, the one who dreamed of a life filled with love and ambition, the woman who once thought she was invincible. That woman had faded, replaced by a shadow of regret and heartache.

The truth settled in her gut like a heavy stone: Darius was no longer hers. And perhaps, in a way, he never really had been. From the very beginning, she had been nothing more than a prize, a means to an end, a trophy wife to someone who had never truly seen her. He had loved the idea of her-her beauty, her status, the way people looked at them when they entered a room together. But he had never cared for who she really was, never appreciated the woman beneath the surface.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps behind her, the quiet shuffle of someone walking across the wooden floor. She turned her head, heart lurching for a split second, but it wasn't Darius. It was Bianca-her sister-in-law.

Bianca, who had once been kind and seemingly supportive, had now become a daily reminder of everything Luna had lost. She stood in the doorway, a glass of wine in her hand, her eyes fixed on Luna with a mixture of pity and disdain. Her sleek blonde hair fell around her shoulders like a waterfall, perfectly styled even at this late hour. Bianca had always been beautiful, effortlessly so. And it seemed that every day, her beauty grew, while Luna's felt like it was slipping further and further out of her grasp.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Bianca remarked, her voice light but cutting.

Luna forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "I'm fine."

Bianca didn't move, standing there in her expensive nightgown, one perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. "You know, you don't have to keep pretending that everything's fine. It's obvious to everyone that it's not."

Luna's throat tightened at the words. They were true, but it didn't make them any easier to hear. She had been pretending for too long-for herself, for her children, for the sake of her family. But in the silence of this house, where the only sound was the rain and the soft ticking of the clock, she couldn't ignore it anymore. She couldn't deny that her marriage was falling apart, and that the man she had trusted with her heart and soul had destroyed everything she had worked for.

Bianca's gaze never wavered. "You've really let yourself go, haven't you? All that beauty wasted," she said casually, as if the words didn't carry the weight of a dagger being plunged into Luna's chest.

Luna's jaw clenched, but she didn't respond. She couldn't-because Bianca was right. Her body had changed, and not for the better. She had let herself go, not because she didn't care, but because the weight of everything-motherhood, marriage, the constant balancing act of trying to be everything for everyone-had crushed her. But Bianca didn't see that. She didn't see the sleepless nights, the endless demands, the sacrifice.

"You know, if you cared enough about yourself, Darius might still look at you the way he did when you were perfect. But now? Well, now he's got Alessia. She's everything you're not, Luna."

Her words stung, but Luna couldn't bring herself to fight back. She had no energy left for that-no will to argue, no will to defend herself. She had spent too many nights trying to change herself, trying to fit into a mold that wasn't made for her. She had become a shadow of who she used to be, and every word Bianca spoke made her feel smaller, weaker.

Bianca took a step closer, her voice low and almost sympathetic. "It's not too late, you know. You could still win him back. If you lost the weight, if you stopped being so... well, you, maybe Darius would notice you again. Maybe he'd see you as more than just the mother of his children."

Luna closed her eyes, the words piercing deeper than she cared to admit. Bianca's attempt to offer advice felt more like a judgment, a condemnation of everything Luna had become. She wasn't a woman anymore, she was a mother, a wife-an accessory to Darius's life. Nothing more.

"I don't need him to notice me," Luna said, her voice hoarse. "I need to stop needing him at all."

Bianca snorted, taking a sip of her wine. "Oh, sweetie, you're kidding yourself if you think you can just walk away from this. You don't have the strength. None of us do. We're all stuck, playing roles in this pathetic little game."

Luna turned to face her sister-in-law fully now, anger flaring in her chest. "What do you want from me, Bianca? You think I don't know what's going on behind my back? Darius isn't the only one who's been unfaithful. You think I don't hear the whispers when you and he go off to 'have a drink' together? Don't pretend like you care about me."

Bianca froze, the glass of wine trembling slightly in her hand. For a moment, Luna thought she saw a flicker of something-guilt? Regret? But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Bianca put the glass down on the counter, her face hardening once more.

"Care about you?" Bianca laughed softly, but the sound was devoid of humor. "You're pathetic. You think Darius cares about you? He doesn't. He hasn't for a long time. The only thing he cares about is what's convenient for him."

Luna's chest tightened. The truth had been hanging in the air for months, but to hear it spoken aloud by someone who had been in the middle of it all felt like a slap. Bianca wasn't wrong. Darius had never cared about her the way she had wanted him to. He had cared about his own needs, his own desires, and everything else had been secondary.

"I'm not your enemy, Luna," Bianca added, her voice laced with something sharp. "I'm just the person who's telling you what you don't want to hear. You've lost. All that's left is for you to decide if you want to keep pretending, or if you want to take control of what's left of your life."

Luna didn't answer. She didn't have the words, and for once, she didn't care. The tears that had been building in her eyes finally spilled over, but she didn't wipe them away. She didn't care anymore. The truth was suffocating, and all she could do was breathe in the darkness that surrounded her.

As Bianca turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house, Luna felt a shift deep inside her. Maybe she wasn't ready to leave. Maybe she wasn't ready to confront Darius and his lies, to face the betrayal head-on. But she would be. Someday.

She had to be.