Burning Down His World Of Lies

his ex-girlfriend, Frida. His neglect cost me our fir

was in agony to rush to Frida's side for a minor scratc

ital. Instead, he was photographed c

from a twisted childhood memory. He believed he had saved Fri

rehouse. A kind boy who saved me. A promise whispered. It w

nd chance after I've filed for divorce. He doesn't know that I

pte

a's

en me, with a practiced indifference that pierced deeper than any physical act. His movements were precise, powerful, and utterly devoid of the lingering tenderness

. He rarely did, not

his silk robe. It was dark blue, the color mirroring

he said, his voice f

e of our marital bedroom. I watched the spot where he had been, the indentation still warm on the prist

skin. I needed to know. I always needed to know. I padded quietly to the door, pressing my ear against the cool

. That was unusual. He only went there when he wanted to be truly alone. I moved like a ghost, my bare feet silent on the cold marble floor

er celebrity ta

encounters, Dax would retreat, not to work, not to sleep, but to this. To he

on his face that I rarely saw directed at me. He listened, utterly engrossed, as Frida' s voice filled the quiet room. She was talking

g. For her. The sound was foreign, intimate. I had not heard him laugh like that, not

man, by a ghost from his past, was a physical ache. My vision blurred. He looked so vulnerable, so lost in her world. It was

, a convenient arrangement. I was the second choice, a stand-in for the woman he truly adored

ble biting into my feet. The soft drone of Frida' s voice, accompanied by Dax' s occasional, tender sigh, faded b

hours before I heard the quiet click of the sitting room door, then his footsteps retreating to his study. The hous

sk of cold efficiency in place. There was no trace of the tenderness I had witnessed j

annual summer barbecue next weekend," I said, trying to make my vo

nd? I'll check my schedule." It was his usual polite

, Dax. To them. To me." I even reached across the table, placing my h

how demanding my schedule is." His voice was devoid of emotio

married for over a year. Don't you think it's time we start thinking about our future? A real future?" I l

cold and distant. "Children?" He almost scoffed. "Aliza, we've discussed this.

entually?" My voice was barely a whisper

ity. And frankly," he paused, his gaze sweeping over me, devoid of warmth, "I won't bring a child into a situation where the

ur marriage. My breath hitched. He linked the concept of having a family with the trauma he belie

tight. "I'm leaving for the office," he said,

old. My dream of a family, of a shared future, lay in ruins around me. The bitter taste o

patting my hand. "We understand." But their eyes held a familiar pity that burned me from the inside out. I smiled, nodded, and

ement. "Aliza, the board just approved funding for Project Chimera! And they want you

work. Something that was finally mine, untainted by the shadow of Dax's past. "Oh, Dr. Aris, that's i

ctory meeting at the West Enterprises biotech campus this a

I said, my h

g, surprisingly early. He saw my bright expression. "Goo

rted out, unable to contain my excitement

hear." He even offered to drive me to the West Enterprises campus, an unprecedented ges

e music. "Breaking news from Hollywood! Actress Frida Brennan has been involved in a minor on-set accident. Source

l, tightened. His face drained of color. The car swerved slightl

campus, not St. Jude's," I said, a c

ng in the opposite direction, toward St. Jude's. "She needs me," he said, his v

ce rising in desperation. But it was useless. He was already go

commanded, his voice sharp, devoid of any concern for me or my meeting. He disappeared into the emergency entrance, a man poss

washed over me, cold sweat beading on my forehead. My vision tunneled. The world tilted. I gasped, clutching my stomach, t

view. A nurse was adjusting an IV drip beside my bed. My mouth fel

ith pity. "You're at St. Jude's, Mrs. West. You coll

e a tiny, secret hope had once resided. I grasped at the thin blanket, my knuckles white. A tear escaped, then another, tracing a hot path down my temple. The pain i