"Zane?" he echoed, his tone calm yet irritated. "When did we become close enough to dispense with formalities? Where are your manners, woman?"
Selina spun around to face him, her eyes burning with a raw, pulsing ache. "I'm your wife, Zane! Whether you want this to be real or not!" The frustration finally shattered the composure in her voice.
"My wife?" he repeated, tilting his head. A short, ridiculing snort escaped him. "I made it clear that I would grant you vanity and status—nothing else. Do not burden me with your expectations."
Selina dipped her head. He had been honest from the start, but she had surrendered everything, foolishly believing that unwavering devotion would eventually soften him.
She took a shaky breath, finally asking the question that gnawed at her daily. "Do I deserve to be neglected this way, even in a marriage of convenience? Why can't you love me? Or at least show me a bit of attention? Is it because I'm not pretty enough? Am I not like the women in your circle? Like Maura?"
She wondered if her plain appearance or low status fueled his disdain. She had spent years hiding her true beauty behind dull makeup and a drab facade, using the disguise as a shield.
For a split second, Zane's stoic expression faltered at the sight of the raw hurt in her eyes. But he hardened his heart like unbreakable steel before she could catch a glimpse of it.
"Don't be sensitive, Selina," he muttered dismissively, looking away. "This is the reality of our marriage. You have no choice but to accept it."
A soft, sad smile touched her lips as she closed the gap between them. Zane was untying his necktie, his movements precise and calculating, yet his eyes never left her. Selina stopped inches from him, her breath hitching. She reached out, her fingers trembling against the silk of his tie as if it could bridge the distance between them.
Tonight felt like the clarity she needed—to either keep hoping or finally move on. It had been a month since that drunken night, the only intimacy they had shared in years, which had resulted in her pregnancy.
Should I tell him now? Give him another chance? To our marriage too.
The question wavered in her throat.
"What's on your mind, Selina?"
Selina jolted, her eyes snapping up to meet his unreadable stare. She blinked hard, realizing with a surge of panic that in her distraction, she had fumbled. Instead of loosening the knot, she had tightened it into a jagged, messy lump against his throat.
"The tie... it was a mistake," she mumbled, her fingers dancing frantically to undo the damage. "I'll redo it. Just give me a second."
"Let it be." Zane's hand clamped over hers, his grip firm and cold. He pushed her hands away and began fixing the silk himself, his narrowed eyes never leaving her face. "You look pale. Unwell. Are you sure you have been taking the pills?"
The air in the room felt thin. Selina stared at him, a bitter laugh dying in her chest.
"It seems you are terrified of me conceiving. Do not worry," she lied, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I took an extra one last time."
"Good. I'm damn terrified of letting it happen," Zane admitted, indifferent to how harsh he sounded. He stepped closer, invading her space until she felt the heat of his unspoken fear. "It would be kind of you to remember your place: serve me in bed, and nothing more."
"I am a human being, Zane, not a fixture. I deserve to be a mother, even if I'm not acknowledged as a wife. How much do you hate the idea of your own seed inside me?"
"My animosity is none of your concern," he said, his eyes piercing her hazel ones like shards of flint.
"It is my concern because I am the one bleeding from it!" Selina retorted, the tether of her patience finally breaking. "Tell me you don't want me, and I will walk out that door right now!"
The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Zane stared at for a while before he turned and strode toward the door without a word.
"What if there was already a child?" Selina's voice was small and desperate, stopping him. "Wouldn't you give us a chance? I don't want a child to grow up in the shadows, Zane. Not like I did."
Zane's back stiffened. His grip on the doorknob turned white-knuckled, the metal creaking under the strain.
"Then get rid of it," he declared, without turning around. "Let me be clear, Selina: you will never be the mother of my child. Not now. Not ever."
The words struck Selina, ringing in her heart like a funeral bell. The tension in the room thickened, pressing on her chest until she could barely breathe. She looked around the room, searching for anything to anchor her against the cold chill surging down her spine.
"And if it were someone else?" she choked out. "Any other woman?"
Zane finally turned, a cruel, taunting smirk twisting his handsome face. "That would be preferable. Even if she were a whore from the street—as long as it wasn't you."
Selina stood dumbstruck, unable to process the cruelty. Before she could recover, he hurled another blow. "So you should understand the nature of our intimacy—"
"There's no need to talk about it. I was just fulfilling my duties," she interrupted, turning her back to flee from what was about to ruin her completely.
"Right. It had always been a fling," he murmured, his tone stern. "Mistakes we must both forget."
A bead of tears broke from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as a dull ache spread across her pulse. How could he say something so real to her was nothing but a mistake? Her hands reached for her belly, shielding her unborn child from its father's rejection.
"A fling? Mistakes? Is that all it meant to you, Zane?" she whispered, forcing herself not to appear broken before him.
"What were you thinking? That we'd become a thing after a few reckless nights?" Zane asked with mockery. "Don't get your hopes up. A moment of weakness won't change anything between us."
With that, the door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls. Selina stumbled toward the bed, collapsing onto the mattress where they had shared those now-ruined moments. Her vision blurred and the room spun as she gasped for air.
She dug her fingers into her shirt, clutching it like a lifeline to keep herself from shattering into a thousand pieces.
How could he be this brutal on their anniversary? Was it because he wasn't ready to take responsibility yet for the unplanned little one? She spiraled, excusing him—anything to hold onto the belief that there was still something worth saving. But the rejection felt like the first anniversary gift she had ever truly received from him.
She couldn't remember ever wronging him. She couldn't understand where everything had gone wrong, or how she had become trapped in the chaos of her broken heart, lost in the suffocating confusion of his coldness.
She didn't fight back the biting tears, letting them fall in a steady, hot stream. Her muffled sobs echoed through the room with grievance and heartbreak, as her entire body shook with the weight of her grief over her one-sided love.