Chapter 2 Camila didn't sleep that night

Camila didn't sleep that night.

She sat curled on the living room couch in the same clothes she wore when Rafaël walked in. Her eyes were bloodshot, but not from tears. No, the tears had stopped hours ago. What remained was an empty ache in her chest, like something had been ripped from inside her-and maybe it had. Her marriage. Her trust. Her future.

Rafaël had gone to the guest room without another word. She didn't ask him to leave. She didn't scream or throw things like she'd imagined a woman might after discovering her husband had another family. She was too numb to feel rage. All she felt was cold.

As dawn broke through the windows, Camila slowly stood and walked to the kitchen, her body moving on autopilot. She made coffee, poured it into two cups. Her hands paused on the second mug.

Then, with an expressionless face, she emptied it into the sink.

There would be no more pretending.

When she returned to the living room, Rafaël was already awake, dressed in a crisp white shirt like it was any other day. His tie hung loosely around his neck. He looked tired-older, somehow-but still managed to look composed. It made her sick.

"I'm not going to fight with you," Camila said first, her voice calm and eerily steady. "But I need answers. And I want the truth. All of it."

He hesitated before sitting across from her, rubbing the back of his neck like a man about to confess something unforgivable.

"I met Amara before we were married," he began. "It was casual... I didn't think it was serious. But I broke things off with her once I knew I wanted to be with you."

Camila's heart tightened. He always had a way of sounding sincere, even when telling the most gutting truths.

"She didn't tell me she was pregnant. Not until years later, after Elias was already born."

Camila's eyes narrowed. "And then what? You just welcomed her back into your life? Built a secret family behind my back?"

"It wasn't like that," he said quickly. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I was trying to do the right thing-for him. For the boy."

Camila leaned forward, her voice sharper now. "You could've told me, Rafaël. You could've come clean. I would've hated you less than I do now."

He winced. "I didn't want to lose you."

"But you still chose her."

He looked away.

"I didn't choose her over you," he said softly. "I tried to balance both. I know how it sounds, but I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't abandon my son."

Camila let out a hollow laugh. "So you abandoned honesty instead?"

He closed his eyes briefly, as if the weight of his choices was finally starting to crush him. But Camila didn't care. Not anymore.

"You've been lying to me for how long?" she asked. "Years?"

"Yes."

The word was barely audible, but it was enough to drive the final nail in the coffin of their marriage.

"I gave you everything, Rafaël," she whispered, voice trembling. "My trust. My love. My loyalty. And you repaid it with secrets and betrayal."

"I still love you, Camila. That hasn't changed."

"But it doesn't matter anymore," she said, standing. "Because the man I love no longer exists."

She walked past him, but his hand shot out and gently grabbed her wrist.

"Please don't leave. Let's figure this out."

She yanked her arm free.

"You already left, Rafaël. You left every time you held her. Every time you tucked your son into bed while lying to me about where you were."

Silence again. Their new language.

Camila walked into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing. Not because she had a plan. Not because she knew where to go. But because she couldn't breathe in this apartment anymore. Not when every corner whispered his betrayal.

Rafaël appeared in the doorway.

"You don't have to go. Please, Camila..."

She stopped, turned to face him, and said the one thing he wasn't ready to hear.

"Tell me... Did you love her?"

He hesitated.

That single pause shattered what little was left of her heart.

"I see," she said quietly, nodding. "That's all I needed to know."

She zipped the suitcase, walked past him without looking back, and left the home they'd built together.

Camila didn't cry until she reached Elira's apartment.

Her best friend opened the door, took one look at her face, and pulled her into a tight embrace. Camila broke down, sobbing into Elira's shoulder like a child lost in a storm. All the strength she had held onto for the past twenty-four hours finally crumbled.

"He has a son, Elira," she choked. "A whole life I never knew about."

"I know," Elira whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry, Cam."

"He said he still loves me. But he didn't deny loving her too."

Elira gently pulled her to the couch and handed her tissues. "You don't have to decide anything now. Just breathe. One step at a time."

But Camila couldn't stop thinking. About the lies. The stolen years. The moments she waited by the window, the nights she worried about him, the plans they made that meant nothing now.

She felt like a fool.

Later that night, as she lay awake in the unfamiliar guest room at Elira's place, she stared at the ceiling, her heart still in pieces.

She opened her phone and pulled up a photo of her and Rafaël, taken a year ago during their anniversary dinner. He was smiling at her, his eyes full of something she thought was love.

Now, she wasn't sure what it was.

She deleted the photo.

The sound felt final.

Then she opened her journal-a habit she'd kept for years-and began writing.

April 16

My marriage ended yesterday.

Or maybe it ended long before that, and I just didn't see it.

I don't know who I am without him.

But I'm going to find out.

Somehow, I'll rebuild what he destroyed.

I owe that to myself.

As she closed the journal and turned off the light, Camila made a silent vow.

She would not be the victim of Rafaël's choices.

She would become the woman who rose from the ashes of betrayal-with or without him.