Chapter 4 Cracks in the Glass

The morning light filtered weakly through the half-drawn curtains of the Mark residence, casting faint shadows over the living room that felt colder than usual. Kayla sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands resting loosely in her lap. Her stomach churned, not with nausea, but with the heavy weight of uncertainty and fear that had settled into her life like an unwelcome guest. She had returned to Mark's house after the whirlwind of Camila's death, the beach trip, and the forbidden night with Ben. But this place, the house that once felt safe, now felt like a cage, glass walls ready to shatter.

She heard the first sharp knock on the door, followed by the familiar, but increasingly terrifying, deep voice of the household doctor.

"Judge Mark," the doctor began cautiously as he stepped inside, "he's had another episode overnight. Blood pressure's spiked-he needs monitoring."

Kayla's pulse quickened. She knew Mark's health had always been fragile, but the heart attack that nearly claimed him yesterday left a lingering dread. She hated the way worry gnawed at her, how fear had become a constant companion.

She rose slowly and walked toward the bedroom, each step measured, silent, almost as if the walls themselves could eavesdrop. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, she saw Mark slumped over the edge of the bed, pale, his hand pressed to his chest, and a sheen of sweat glistening across his furrowed brow. His eyes fluttered open, filled with confusion, fear, and something else, a faint glimmer of vulnerability she had never truly seen in him before.

He looked at her and, for a split second, she wondered if he remembered the nights of coldness, the accusations, the suffocating silence, the blame he had thrown at her after the miscarriage.

"You... you're here," he rasped, his voice weaker than she remembered.

"I'm here," she replied softly, moving closer but keeping her distance, unsure whether he needed comfort or simply space.

The doctor muttered something about vital signs and oxygen, and Kayla stayed there, watching him with a mix of pity and simmering resentment. Mark, once the rock of authority in her life, now seemed fragile, like a broken reflection in a cracked mirror. And in that moment, Kayla realized something terrifying, she had grown almost indifferent to his suffering.

Meanwhile, Lissa was upstairs, her phone glowing in the dim light of her room. She had been chatting with a new friend online, the stranger her mother had warned her about, yet something about him drew her in. That night, Ben had appeared again in their lives, unexpected, unannounced, and impossible to ignore.

Lissa had met him at the university earlier, though she didn't yet know who he truly was. The confident way he smiled, the subtle charm in his words, the way he seemed to see past her defenses, it was dangerous. And tonight, she felt a magnetic pull toward him she couldn't explain.

She told herself it was harmless, a passing fascination, but Kayla's words from earlier echoed in her mind: "Be careful who you trust. Not everyone has your best intentions at heart."

But care was a luxury she felt she couldn't afford.

Downstairs, Kayla was dealing with her own tension. The guilt from her night with Ben had been festering like an open wound. She wanted to confide, to seek solace, but the fear of exposure, of destroying her reputation, kept her lips sealed. Every time her thoughts wandered to Ben, she felt both exhilaration and shame, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between freedom and ruin.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, inhaling the bitter aroma, trying to center herself. Her mind wandered to Lissa, wondering how much her daughter understood of the world she was being dragged into. She hadn't told her about Ben, but the dangers were clear.

It was that evening, while Mark rested, that Ben showed up at the house. His presence was both a comfort and a provocation. He didn't knock; he simply let himself in, as if he belonged there, his dark eyes scanning the room until they found Kayla.

"Mind if I stay for a while?" he asked casually, but there was nothing casual about him.

Kayla's hands tightened around her coffee cup. "Ben... you can't just-"

"I can," he interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. "You wanted to forget, didn't you? Let me help you."

And she let herself be pulled into his orbit once more. Words were unnecessary. Every touch, every stolen glance, was heavy with unspoken emotion. Her lips trembled, her heart raced, and for the first time since Mark's coldness took over her life, Kayla felt alive.

Upstairs, Lissa's curiosity and rebellion reached a dangerous tipping point. Ben, ever observant, had noticed her from the corner of the living room during his visit. He hadn't intended to approach her, yet when he caught her eyes peeking from the staircase, something shifted.

"Hey," he called softly. Lissa froze, her phone slipping from her hands.

"Hi," she whispered, unsure why her pulse had doubled.

Ben stepped closer, his aura commanding yet strangely gentle. "You shouldn't be alone right now," he said.

Lissa blinked, torn between intrigue and caution. And in that moment, Kayla distracted by her own entanglement with Ben, didn't notice the subtle shift in their dynamic. A seed of temptation, barely visible, had been planted.

Mark's collapse had thrown the household into a strange mix of chaos and silence. Kayla and Ben's clandestine encounter upstairs had ignited sparks that neither could ignore, yet the shadows of guilt and betrayal loomed. Lissa, drawn to Ben without understanding the danger, moved closer to the edge of a trap she could not see.

And Mark... Mark remained a fragile, silent storm in the house-a man unaware that the world he controlled with an iron grip was cracking around him.

By midnight, the house was filled with a strange tension. Nandi stood by the window, looking out at the city lights, her mind spinning. The cracks were everywhere-her marriage, her loyalty, her family, even her sense of self. And yet, the allure of Ben, the thrill of secrecy, made it all feel intoxicating.

Somewhere deep in her heart, she knew the storm was only beginning.