I forced a calm smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Did you find something you liked?”
“I did. And I picked one for you, too. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” she said, handing me a bag.
“Thank you, truly,” I replied, letting the warmth of her gesture cut through my bitterness.
Back at the manor, the emptiness pressed heavier than ever. Zaldy did not return that night, nor the next. I tried to distract myself, but a persistent unease left me restless.
Days later, another post: Maria in Paris for Fashion Week. And there he was, by her side again—his posture protective, his gaze devoted, his smile reserved entirely for her.
Each image twisted something inside me. Photos of him attending her events, celebrating milestones in her circle, laughing and leaning close—the sting of jealousy flared hotter with each snapshot.
“Why don’t they just move in together already?” I muttered, anger and frustration coiling in my stomach.
I could no longer hold back. My pulse racing, I threw the phone aside, gathered my papers, and ordered the driver to take me to the courthouse.