Chapter 2

The clatter of pots and pans from downstairs yanked me from a shallow, dreamless sleep. Sunlight, weak and watery, filtered through the heavy drapes, doing little to dispel the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Graham was in the kitchen. It was an unusual sound. He rarely cooked, preferring catered meals or my own carefully prepared dishes.

I dragged myself out of bed, each movement stiff and heavy. When I walked into the kitchen, he stood by the stove, flipping something in a pan with an air of theatrical domesticity. He was wearing an apron patterned with cartoon chefs, an absurd image that almost made me laugh if my heart hadn't felt so hollow. The scene felt staged, a desperate attempt at normalcy.

He turned, his face breaking into a wide, almost too bright, smile. "Good morning, sleeping beauty! Look what your amazing husband made for you!" He gestured proudly at a plate piled high with what looked suspiciously like burnt pancakes and undercooked sausages.

My stomach clenched, not from hunger, but from the sheer fakery of it all. "It looks delicious, Graham," I said, my voice carefully neutral, a practiced mask of affection. The lie slipped easily, a testament to the years I' d spent perfecting this role.

He beamed, clearly pleased with himself. He leaned down, placing a quick, possessive kiss on my temple. "See? I told you I could do it when I put my mind to it. You just need to have faith in me, babe." He patted my head, a gesture I once found endearing. Now it felt condescending.

He settled into his chair, pulling out his phone. I watched him, a cold knot forming in my chest. He scrolled through social media, a faint smile playing on his lips, oblivious to the burnt offering he' d just presented. He was waiting for something. Or someone.

A few minutes later, he excused himself, mumbling something about a "very important work call" and disappeared into his study. My fork clinked against the plate, the sound echoing loudly in the sudden silence. I pushed the food around, a faint metallic scent clinging to the air. It wasn't just burnt. It smelled off.

I waited until I heard the low murmur of his voice from the study, then quietly rose. My training had given me an acute sense of hearing, a skill I' d honed for precision in quiet labs. It also meant I could often catch snippets of conversations not meant for my ears. I crept closer to the study door, pressing my ear against the polished wood.

"...yes, my love," Graham's voice was soft, laced with an intimacy that felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn't the casual "babe" he used with me. It was something deeper, more possessive. "I miss you too. So much."

My blood ran cold.

"Of course, I remember that night," he chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves. "How could I forget? You were incredible."

A pause. Then, his voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. "No, no, Elise is perfectly oblivious. A bit dim, honestly. She just... does whatever I tell her to. She' s too caught up in her little graduate student world to notice anything."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Oblivious? Dim? He had no idea the extent of my "little graduate student world." And no idea how devastatingly aware I was.

"She' s useful, though," he continued, a calculating edge to his tone. "The investment in her research was a smart move. Keeps her busy, keeps her quiet. And she' s... cooperative. Exactly what I need right now."

My vision blurred. Useful. Cooperative. That' s all I was to him. A means to an end.

"Meet me at the apartment tomorrow," he whispered, excitement coloring his voice. "Elise will be at the lab all day. We'll have the whole place to ourselves. Just like old times."

My heart, already fractured, felt like it was turning to ice. The apartment. Our sanctuary. The place he had sworn was "ours."

I stumbled back, leaning against the cold wall for support. My eyes landed on a small, framed photo on the hallway table – a picture from our wedding day. We stood beneath a shower of rose petals, smiling, eyes full of promise. It was a beautiful lie.

A sudden, uncontrollable rage surged through me. My hand shot out, sweeping the photo frame off the table. It crashed to the floor, the glass shattering. The sound echoed through the silent house, sharp and violent.

Graham's murmuring stopped abruptly in the study. A moment later, the door creaked open. He appeared, his eyes wide, then narrowed as he spotted the broken frame.

"Elise! What happened?" He hurried over, not to me, but to the shattered glass. "My grandmother gave us this! Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. I gestured vaguely at the shards. "It slipped."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, we' ll have to get it replaced. It was a vintage piece, you know. Very valuable." He looked at me, a trace of annoyance in his eyes. "Be more careful, babe."

He reached out, trying to pull me into a hug. I stepped back, my eyes fixed on his. A faint tremor ran through me.

"Graham," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Who is coming over tonight?"

His eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. "What are you talking about, Elise? No one's coming over tonight." He forced a smile. "Just you and me, celebrating my successful call!"

My blood ran cold. He was lying. Right to my face. The sheer audacity.

"Actually," he continued, his tone shifting, "Keeley is coming by. Just for a quick chat about the institute. You know, professional stuff."

My breath hitched. Keeley. Here? In our home? The blatant disregard, the open disrespect. It was a slap in the face.

"She's such a brilliant scientist," Graham enthused, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. "And she knows so much about genetic research. I thought it would be good for you to meet her. You could learn a thing or two."

Learn a thing or two from Keeley? The "prodigy scientist" who dropped out of grad school and built a fake persona? The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

Just then, the doorbell chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that seemed cruelly out of place. Graham's face lit up. He practically bounced to the door, throwing it open with an eagerness he hadn't shown me in months.

Standing on our doorstep was Keeley Nguyen. She was even more stunning in person, a picture of flawless elegance. Her eyes, identical to my own, sparkled with an almost predatory amusement as they swept over me. She was wearing a silk dress, a vibrant crimson that clung to her curves. It was the same dress Graham had bought for me on our first anniversary. I had never worn it, deeming it "too flashy."

"Graham, darling!" Keeley purred, her voice dripping with an artificial sweetness that made my teeth ache. She embraced him, a lingering, intimate hug that spoke volumes.

Graham, still holding her, turned to me, his smile fixed. "Elise, this is Keeley. Keeley, this is my wife, Elise."

Keeley finally detached herself from Graham, her gaze raking over me, a silent assessment. "Ah, yes. The lovely Mrs. Harvey. I've heard so much about you." Her smile tightened at the edges. "Graham mentioned you're a... graduate student, I believe? How quaint."

My jaw clenched. Quaint. She dismissed my entire existence with a single word.

"Perhaps," Keeley continued, her voice syrupy sweet, "you could make us some tea, darling? All this academic talk makes one terribly thirsty."

A vein throbbed in my temple. Make us tea? In my own home? The audacity was breathtaking.

"I think I'll pass," I replied, my voice dangerously calm. "I'm not feeling particularly hospitable tonight."

Keeley's eyes widened in mock surprise. She turned to Graham, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Oh, Graham. Your wife is... so direct. I just wanted a simple cup of tea."

Graham's face darkened. He shot me a furious glare. "Elise, that's incredibly rude! Keeley is our guest." He turned back to Keeley, his voice softening. "Don't mind her, Keeley. She's just a little stressed with her studies. I'll get you some tea."

He walked towards the kitchen, leaving me standing there, exposed and humiliated. He always chose her. Always sided with her, even against me. My shoulders slumped. The anger was quickly replaced by a chilling realization: he wouldn't defend me. He never would.

Suddenly, Keeley stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "You know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Graham only married you because you look so much like me. He told me. He said you were a convenient replacement."

My stomach dropped. It was true. All of it. The confirmation was a fresh wound, twisting in my gut.

Before I could react, Keeley lunged, her hand darting out towards my phone, which I had unconsciously clutched in my hand. "What's on there? Evidence, perhaps? Something to ruin my reputation?"

I tightened my grip, pulling back. "It's nothing that concerns you."

"Oh, but it does!" she hissed, her face contorted in a mask of fury. "You think you can just record things and get away with it? I'll destroy you!" She clawed at my hand, her nails digging into my skin. The pain was sharp, but the shock was greater. She was actually attacking me.

Just then, Graham re-entered the living room, a tray with tea cups in his hands. He stopped dead, his eyes widening at the sight of Keeley struggling with me.

"Keeley! What's going on?" he exclaimed, dropping the tray with a crash. China shattered against the marble floor. He rushed forward, not to me, but to Keeley, pulling her protectively into his arms.

"She attacked me, Graham!" Keeley wailed, clutching her hand and pouting dramatically. "She tried to hit me! And she has something on her phone! She's trying to frame me!"

Graham turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Elise, what the hell is wrong with you? Attacking our guest? Have you completely lost your mind?" He looked at Keeley' s hand, where a faint red mark was already forming. "Oh, my poor Keeley! Did she hurt you?"

He cradled her hand, his face etched with concern. My own hand throbbed, a deep cut bleeding freely from where Keeley' s nail had torn my skin. But he didn't even glance at me. He didn' t care.

A cold, dead sensation spread through my chest. The betrayal was absolute. My vision swam, my head spinning. I couldn' t be here. Not one more second.

"I need to leave," I said, my voice flat, distant, as if it belonged to someone else. I turned, stumbling towards the door.

"Leave? Where do you think you're going?" Graham snapped, his voice sharp with command. "You're not going anywhere until you apologize to Keeley!"

I ignored him, my mind a blur. I just needed to escape this suffocating room, this suffocating lie. As I reached the front door, Graham stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Elise, stop this ridiculous behavior!" he demanded, his voice hardening. He reached out to grab my arm.

"Don't touch me," I warned, my eyes flashing. The raw pain was giving way to something colder, harder.

He paused, then sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Look, babe, I know you're upset. But let's not make a scene. Come on, let's just talk about this later. Here, have some water." He offered me a glass from the shattered tea tray, retrieved from the floor.

My throat was parched, and without thinking, I took a large gulp. The water tasted oddly sweet, cloying. A wave of dizziness washed over me, disorienting and sudden. The room spun. My knees buckled. Darkness enveloped me, swift and absolute.