Aria's POV
"Mama, you're squeezing too tight!"
Lily's voice snaps me back to reality. I loosen my grip on my daughter, my heart still racing from those photos. Maya is talking but I can't hear her. All I can see is that woman's hand on Dominic's arm.
"Aria!" Maya snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Breathe. You need to breathe."
I suck in air. It burns.
"Who sent those pictures?" Maya picks up my phone from the floor. The screen is cracked but still working. She scrolls through the messages, her face getting darker. "There are more. Five more photos. Aria, they're time-stamped. This was happening while you were on your way here."
My stomach twists. While I was in that taxi, crying over a forgotten anniversary, my husband was with another woman.
"Let me see." I grab the phone.
The photos tell a story. Dominic and the mystery woman arriving at the restaurant together. Sitting close in a booth. Her laughing at something he said. Him smiling—actually smiling. I haven't seen him smile in years. Then outside, that hug. Her head on his chest. His arms around her.
The last photo is the worst. It's zoomed in on his face. And he looks... happy.
"Mama, why are you sad?" Lily's small hand touches my cheek.
I shove the phone in my pocket and force a smile. "I'm not sad, baby. I'm just thinking."
"About Daddy?"
My fake smile cracks. "How do you know about... I mean, why do you ask about Daddy?"
Lily shrugs. "Maya talks about him sometimes. She says he's silly for not knowing about me." She tilts her head, looking so much like Dominic it hurts. "Does Daddy not like me?"
"No!" I pull her close. "Daddy doesn't know about you, sweet girl. That's different."
"Why doesn't he know?"
Because I'm a coward. Because four years ago, I almost died having her and Dominic visited me in the hospital exactly twice—both times to make sure the baby survived, not to check if I was okay. Because when I miscarried the first time, he looked relieved. Because I couldn't bear to see that relief again if he knew she lived.
"It's complicated, Lily."
"That means you don't want to tell me." Lily crosses her arms, looking exactly like me when I'm annoyed. "I'm not a baby, Mama. I'm four and a half."
Despite everything, I almost laugh. "You're right. You're very grown up."
Maya clears her throat. "Lily, sweetie, why don't you go play with your dolls for a minute? Mama and I need to talk."
Lily huffs but runs off to her room. The second she's gone, Maya grabs my shoulders.
"You need to leave him. Today. Right now. Pack your things and file for divorce."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can!" Maya's voice is fierce. "Aria, I've watched you disappear for five years. You used to laugh. You used to have dreams. Now you're just... empty. And he doesn't even notice. He's too busy with mystery women at restaurants!"
"What if it's not what it looks like?"
Maya stares at me like I've grown a second head. "Are you serious right now? There are photos of him hugging another woman on your anniversary!"
"But what if—"
My phone rings. Dominic's name flashes on the screen.
We both stare at it.
"Don't answer," Maya warns.
But I'm already swiping to accept. "Hello?"
"Aria, where are you?" Dominic sounds annoyed. Not guilty. Not sorry. Annoyed.
"Brooklyn. Why?"
"You need to come home. Celeste arrived early. She's at the penthouse now and it's awkward without you here."
I almost laugh. It's awkward. His ex-girlfriend is in our home and he's worried about awkward.
"I'm busy, Dominic."
Silence. He's not used to me saying no.
"Busy with what?" His tone is sharp now. Suspicious.
"With my life. The one you don't know about because you never ask."
More silence. Then: "What's gotten into you today?"
What's gotten into me? I look at Maya, who's making frantic "hang up" gestures. I look at the cracked phone screen showing photos of my husband with another woman. I think about Lily in the next room, asking about a daddy who doesn't know she exists.
"Nothing's gotten into me," I say quietly. "I'm just tired, Dominic. So very tired."
"Well, get un-tired and come home. Celeste wants to have dinner with both of us. As a family." He pauses. "She's going through a hard time. We need to be supportive."
We need to be supportive of his ex-girlfriend. The woman he loved before me. The woman he probably still loves.
"Was that her?" The question comes out before I can stop it.
"What?"
"This morning. At breakfast. Was that Celeste you were with?"
The silence stretches so long I think he hung up. Then: "How did you know about that?"
My heart stops. He doesn't deny it. He just asks how I knew.
"Someone sent me photos," I whisper.
"Photos?" Now he sounds angry. "Who? What kind of photos?"
"Of you. With her. Hugging her. On our anniversary, Dominic. On. Our. Anniversary."
"Aria, it's not—it's not what you think. She called me this morning, upset. She needed someone to talk to. I met her for breakfast to be supportive. That's all."
"You forgot our anniversary to have breakfast with your ex-girlfriend."
"I didn't forget—" He stops. "Okay, I forgot. But it's just a date, Aria. It doesn't mean anything."
Just a date. Our five-year anniversary doesn't mean anything.
"You're right," I say. My voice sounds strange. Calm. Too calm. "It doesn't mean anything. Just like our marriage doesn't mean anything. Just like I don't mean anything."
"That's not fair—"
"I want a divorce."
The words hang in the air like smoke.
"What?" Dominic's voice is barely a whisper.
"You heard me. I want a divorce. I'm done."
"Aria, don't be dramatic. You're upset about the breakfast thing, I get it. But asking for a divorce is—"
"I'm not asking, Dominic. I'm telling you. Our marriage is over."
Maya's eyes are huge. She mouths: "Really?"
I nod. Really.
"Where is this coming from?" Dominic sounds confused now. "Is this because of Celeste staying with us? Because I can tell her to find a hotel—"
"This is because I've spent five years loving a man who doesn't love me back!" My voice breaks. "This is because you forgot our anniversary to have breakfast with the woman you actually wanted to marry. This is because I'm tired of being your second choice. Your backup plan. Your mistake that you're stuck with!"
"Aria—"
"Sign the divorce papers when they arrive. I'll make it easy. You can have everything—the penthouse, the money, all of it. I just want out."
I hang up before he can respond. My hands are shaking so hard the phone slips and Maya catches it.
"Oh my God," Maya breathes. "You actually did it. You're really leaving him."
Am I? Can I? Should I?
My phone buzzes. A text from Dominic: "We're not getting divorced. Come home and we'll talk about this like adults."
I stare at the message. Even now, he's giving me orders. Telling me what we're going to do. Not asking. Not caring what I want.
I'm about to respond when another text comes in. From that same unknown number.
My blood runs cold as I read it:
"Good job telling him about the divorce. But you should know—those breakfast photos were from TWO DAYS AGO, not this morning. Want to know where he REALLY was this morning? Check the attachment."
My finger hovers over the attachment. Maya leans in to look.
"Don't open it," she warns. "It could be a virus or—"
But I'm already tapping it.
A video starts playing. It's dark, grainy, like security camera footage. But I can make out two figures in what looks like a parking garage. A man and a woman. The man turns his head and the camera catches his face.
Dominic.
The woman steps into the light.
My sister. Celeste.
The timestamp says: "Today, 6:47 AM."
And then, as Maya and I watch in horror, my husband pulls my sister into his arms and kisses her. Not a friendly kiss. Not a supportive kiss.
A real kiss.
The kind he's never given me.
The video ends.
Maya's hand covers her mouth. "Oh, Aria. Oh no."
But I'm not crying. I'm not screaming. I'm not falling apart.
I'm just... done.
I dial a number I found last month but never had the courage to call.
"Torres Law Firm," a professional voice answers. "How can I help you?"
"I need a divorce lawyer," I say clearly. "The best one you have. And I need her today."
From Lily's room, I hear my daughter singing a song I taught her. A song about being brave. About being strong.
It's time I took my own advice.
But as I end the call with the lawyer's office, my phone buzzes one final time. Another message from the unknown number:
"You'll want to know one more thing before you divorce him. Check your husband's desk drawer at home. The locked one. The key is taped under his nightstand. What you find there will destroy you... or set you free. Your choice, Aria. Tick tock."