Then, just like that, he turned and left. As if nothing about this situation was wrong. As if bringing his mistress into our home was something I should simply accept.
The next morning, I found myself standing in front of a door I hadn’t opened in a long time.
My fingers hovered over the handle.
Hesitating.
This room… It was the one place I avoided the most. And yet, it was also the one place I cherished the most. The nursery.
I took a slow breath before pushing the door open. The familiar scent greeted me first.
My gaze softened as I stepped inside.
My chest tightened. I walked further in, my fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the crib.
“I’m here,” I whispered softly.
A habit. A foolish one, perhaps. But it was the only way I knew how to cope.
Even after a year of my miscarriage, the pain hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only settled deeper into my bones.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Meow.”
I froze. My brows furrowed slightly.
That wasn’t...
“Meow.”
The sound came again. Louder this time.
My eyes snapped open.
“What…?”
Confusion quickly turned into unease as I moved further into the room.
And then I saw them.
Two cats. Inside the nursery.
My breath caught.