I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling of my office. The world outside my window was alive with the hum of the city, but inside, it felt as if everything had ground to a halt. My chest was heavy, my mind spinning, and no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn't push her out of my head.
Isabella.
Her name felt like both a blessing and a curse on my tongue.
The memory of her standing in my living room earlier that morning, her face a mix of anger, hurt, and defiance, refused to leave me. I could still hear the sharp edge of her voice, still see the tears that glistened in her eyes even as she tried to hold them back.
She had pushed me, slapped me, screamed at me—and I had deserved every bit of it.
But that didn't stop the anger from bubbling up inside me now.
---
The Anger
How could she show up at my daughter's birthday party like that? Of all the places, she chose to come there, to my home, the one place I've worked so hard to keep separate from everything else. She had no right to cross that line, to put me in such a position.
I clenched my fists on the desk, the frustration boiling just beneath the surface.
She didn't understand. She couldn't possibly understand what she'd done. The way she smiled at Angelina, the casual way she spoke about her own situation—it was like she was toying with me, testing just how far she could push before everything came crashing down.
And the worst part?
She wasn't wrong.
I was scared. Terrified, actually. Of her. Of what she could do.
Because she held all the power now, didn't she? She could destroy everything I've built with a single word. She could shatter the fragile balance I've worked so hard to maintain.
And yet...
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The Guilt
I exhaled slowly, dragging my hands down my face as the guilt settled in, cold and unrelenting.
I hadn't meant for any of this to happen.
I told myself that over and over again, as if repeating it enough times would make it true. I hadn't planned to fall into another affair. I hadn't planned to meet someone like Isabella—young, vibrant, full of life.
She wasn't like the others.
I'd tried to convince myself that she was just another escape, another fleeting distraction. But Isabella wasn't fleeting. She wasn't temporary.
She was... more.
The thought of her, alone in that apartment, carrying my child—it hit me like a punch to the gut. I had sent her money, told her to "take care of it" as if that would solve everything. As if she was just another problem to be dealt with, another inconvenience to be erased.
What kind of man does that?
The kind of man I've become, apparently.
---
The Love
I closed my eyes, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk, my hands clasped tightly together.
The truth was, I loved her.
I didn't want to admit it—not to myself, not to anyone—but I couldn't deny it anymore.
I loved the way she smiled, the way she looked at me like I was the only man in the world. I loved the way she challenged me, the way she made me feel alive.
With Isabella, I wasn't just "Alexander the businessman" or "Alexander the husband." I was just... me.
But love wasn't enough, was it?
Because I also loved my children. I loved their innocent faces, their laughter, the way they looked up to me.
And then there was Angelina.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. Our marriage was nothing more than a hollow shell now, held together by duty and convenience. But there had been a time when I'd loved her too.
What kind of man destroys his family for his own selfish desires?
---
The Sadness
A heavy sadness settled over me as I thought about the life I had created with Isabella, the child I had created with her.
I couldn't stop picturing her sitting alone in her apartment, her hands on her stomach, carrying a child that I had already rejected.
What kind of father does that?
The memory of her tears haunted me. The way she had screamed at me, asking why I had lied, why I had made her feel important only to tear her apart.
And she was right.
I had lied. I had made her feel special because, to me, she was special. She was everything I hadn't realized I was missing.
But I couldn't have her. Not in the way she wanted. Not in the way she deserved.
Because no matter how much I loved her, no matter how much I wanted her, I would always be tied to this life. To Angelina. To my children.
---
The Fear
And yet, there was a part of me that feared losing her more than anything else.
What if she told Angelina? What if she exposed everything?
What if she left me?
The thought sent a wave of panic through me, sharp and sudden. I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose the way she made me feel, the way she looked at me, the way she...
I stood abruptly, pacing the length of my office as my thoughts spiraled.
I had to find a way to fix this.
I had to find a way to keep her, to keep everything from falling apart.
But as I stared out the window, the city stretching out before me, I couldn't help but feel like the walls were closing in.
Because no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to hold it all together, I knew one thing for certain:
I was going to lose something.
The only question was... what?