Chapter 53
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CLARA sat at her dresser, the soft yellow glow of her bedside lamp bouncing off the polished wood. She rested her chin lightly on one palm, her other hand holding her phone against her ear. Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror, eyes that looked heavier these days, carrying both curiosity and disappointment. The phone rang twice, and then a soft, familiar voice filled her ear.
“Hi, Clara,” Amelia said, her voice faint, laced with exhaustion but still steady enough to be recognizable.
Clara exhaled deeply, as though she had been holding her breath.
“Amelia… how are you coping p>
There was silence for a moment, then a small sigh.
“I don’t know if coping is the right word, Clara. I’m… surviving. Trying to find air in a space that no longer belongs to me p>
Clara pressed her lips together, watching herself in the mirror as though gauging her own reaction.
“I can’t believe Adrian,” she muttered. “Taking that mistress of his and openly deciding to marry her? As his second wife? After everything p>
Amelia chuckled softly, but it wasn’t from humor.
“That is what makes it hurt more, Clara. He didn’t hide it anymore. He sat there and told me, told me like it was a fact, like it was something I should just accept. Like it was nothing. But it was everything. It was the breaking point p>
“You couldn’t have lived with that,” Clara said firmly, shaking her head.
“No,” Amelia agreed, her voice trembling slightly. “I couldn’t. I stayed long enough, Clara. I stayed hoping something would change. Hoping he would look at me and remember the vows, the life we built, the home we shared. But instead, he looked at me and saw only inconvenience, while his heart and body belonged elsewhere. So I packed up what dignity I had left and walked away p>
Clara leaned back in her chair, fingers brushing along her jawline thoughtfully.
“Do you plan to file for divorce?” she asked gently, almost cautiously.
“No.” Amelia’s response was immediate, almost too quick.
Clara blinked. “You won’t p>
“No, Clara. Divorce isn’t on my priority list right now. Not when my heart is in pieces. Not when Hazel needs stability. Divorce is final, and right now, I don’t need finality. I need healing. I need peace. I need to move on and build another life for myself and my daughter. Papers won’t give me that. Time will p>
Clara tilted her head, frowning. “So you would still be carrying his name p>
Amelia paused, and then spoke quietly.
“Yes. He is still my husband. A broken one, perhaps, but still. And maybe… maybe holding onto that name is a reminder that even broken stories still carry lessons p>
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Clara gave a small laugh, though it was filled with disbelief.
“Well, good for you. I don’t think I could ever do that p>
“Maybe not,” Amelia said softly. “But each of us has our own way of surviving p>
Clara tapped her nails lightly against the dresser surface, searching for a way to steer the conversation lighter.
“And what about Satin and Sage? How is it faring with you away p>
Amelia’s voice brightened just a little.
“It is doing fine. The manager has been remarkable, steady, resourceful, loyal. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for better. I will be breezing in from time to time, just to keep my hands in the work. It gives me something to focus on, something that reminds me I still have purpose beyond heartbreak p>
“I’m glad,” Clara said warmly. “I would hate to see your dreams crumble along with his mistakes p>
“Thank you,” Amelia whispered.
There was a beat of silence, then Amelia asked carefully, “And Leonard? Has he changed any bit p>
Clara’s tone shifted again, steady but guarded.
“No. Leonard is still Leonard. Still unwilling to change. Still entitled. Still thinking he has some claim to me beyond what I’m willing to give. But I have drawn my line. I won’t let him touch me. Not now, not ever again, unless something changes drastically. I need to be safe, Amelia. My body is my own now. I can’t let him break me again p>
Amelia’s throat tightened at her friend’s words.
“You are strong, Clara. Don’t ever forget that p>
“Sometimes strength is just another word for survival you know,” Clara said quietly.
They lingered on the line a little longer, talking about smaller things, Hazel’s bright laughter despite the turmoil, Clara’s endless worries about her own marriage, and the weight of silence that often followed them both. Eventually, their voices grew tired.
“Take care of yourself,” Clara said, her voice softer now.
“You too,” Amelia replied,
“Goodnight, Amelia p>
“Goodnight, Clara p>
Clara hung up and placed her phone down, her reflection still staring back at her. For a long moment, she simply sat there, lost in thought, the quiet pressing against her.
The door creaked open, pulling her out of her haze. Leonard strolled into the room, his steps heavy but casual. He glanced at her once, his expression unreadable, and then crossed to the bed. He lay down without a word, pulling the duvet over himself as though she didn’t exist.
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Clara watched him through the mirror, her fingers drumming on the dresser.
“Is that it?” she asked suddenly, her tone sharp but calm.
Leonard sat up slightly, his brow furrowing.
“Is that what p>
She turned then, meeting his eyes directly.
“Your friend, Adrian. Is that really what he is going to do? Just marry his mistress and let his wife walk away? Just like that p>
Leonard smirked faintly and leaned back against the headboard.
“She will come around. Women always do. Life happens p>
Clara’s mouth fell open slightly at the casual cruelty of his words.
“Seriously?” she whispered. “That is what you think p>
He shrugged. “That is the truth p>
Clara’s eyes burned as she stared at him.
“I always knew you were never any better, Leonard. You are just like him. Even worse. You better keep staying off me until I say otherwise p>
His face twisted into irritation, and he leaned forward.
“I don’t care,” he spat. “I still get it elsewhere p>
Clara’s lips curled into a bitter, knowing smile. She nodded once, slowly.
“As expected p>
The room went silent again, only the sound of her ticking clock filling the air. Leonard lay back down, turning his face away, while Clara remained seated at the dresser, her reflection staring at her with tired, knowing eyes.
And in that silence, Clara knew, she was no longer blinded. Not by Adrian’s mask, not by Leonard’s lies. The veil had lifted, and reality was sharper than ever.
P
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.