Marisha's hand trembled as she poured wine into the crystal glass on her vanity.The sound of the liquid splashing was faint, almost drowned by her heavy, uneven breathing. Her body shook, not because of the cold room, but because of something else that had just struck her. A past she thought had long been buried, now resurfaced in front of many eyes.
A past that returned when her life was almost perfect.
With a weak hand, she lifted the glass to her lips and gulped it down without pause. Her face was pale. Her eyes still glued to her phone screen, displaying the same news article that had shockingly appeared on the big screen at her birthday party.
The news of Mike and his wife's death. Suicide. Ten years ago.
"Why did that article show up? I swear... that wasn't a coincidence," she whispered, her voice almost a whimper. Suddenly, she clutched her own hair in frustration. "Mike... he's dead. So why is he still haunting me?"
She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and what she saw was a woman with flawless makeup that was starting to fade, as if reflecting what would happen if her past was exposed. Marisha could no longer hide the panic gnawing at her sanity.
"Why are the things I buried so neatly coming back like this?" she muttered, pacing back and forth. "Is this karma? But I've already atoned for everything, haven't I?"
Her hands shook as she opened the drawer, searching for a small bottle she knew all too well. She swallowed one antidepressant without water, hoping it would stop her trembling and quiet her mind.
Marisha exhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.
"His daughter is still alive," she whispered. Fear began to creep into her thoughts. "Could she know about me? Is this revenge?"
Marisha sat back down, hugging herself. "But that's impossible. She was just a child then. Too young to understand my affair with her father. Mike always said his daughter didn't know, only his wife caught us."
She closed her eyes, recalling a moment from years ago when she sent people disguised as insurance agents to give the girl a sum of money. At the time, the girl was seventeen. A huge amount of money, taken from the sale of the diamond necklace Zayden had given her for her birthday. A diamond that was supposed to symbolize his love.
"I even sacrificed my most precious gift to make sure she lived a decent life," she murmured bitterly. "She should be happy by now. That tragedy should've been buried with that money. Hundreds of billions, for one painful memory."
She scoffed and sipped her wine again. "That girl is probably living in luxury now, having fun, without even knowing who I am. I don't even remember her face."
But when her eyes returned to the phone screen, her logic began to crumble. Fear crawled from the back of her mind.
"But if it was just a random article, why was it shown along with my photos, on my birthday?" she whispered. "They said the operator just had a hobby of collecting news. But how could it be that accurate?" She swallowed hard. Suddenly, the room felt narrow and full of shadows.
"I can't panic," she told herself. "This must be... just a stupid coincidence."
Before she could collect herself, the door creaked open. Zayden entered with heavy steps, his white shirt slightly wrinkled, tie undone, and his face looking tired.
Marisha immediately stood up, greeting him with a sweet smile and hopeful eyes. She tried to hide the anxiety still dancing at the edge of her thoughts. But her smile vanished the moment she saw a vivid stain on Zayden's shirt—a red lipstick mark in the shape of lips.
Her heart pounded. She stepped forward and smacked his chest, not violently, but with the weight of overflowing emotions.
"What is this?" she asked sharply, her voice trembling.
Zayden looked down quickly. His face changed as he realized the stain hadn't been wiped. It wasn't something he meant to hide, but the incident with Irish was bound to cause misunderstanding.
"Listen, sweetheart, don't get the wrong idea. I accidentally ran into a woman at the party. She fell and hurt her foot. I just helped call a doctor, and our driver took her home."
"That's an old excuse, Zayden!" Marisha's voice rose, her eyes welling with tears. "Are you cheating? Admit it!"
"I'm telling the truth." Zayden kept his tone calm, though he was clearly frustrated. "I just bumped into someone and helped her. Don't you trust me?"
"Who could trust that when the proof is right here in front of me?" Marisha's body trembled. "Is it because I can't get pregnant that you're looking for someone else? Because I'm just a filthy trauma victim who isn't worthy to be your wife?"
Tears began falling down her cheeks. She held back her sobs, but her voice cracked. "You regret it, don't you? Regret marrying me? You want to throw me away, don't you?"
"Sweetheart..." Zayden sighed deeply. He held back from responding emotionally. He knew Marisha wasn't speaking from logic—but from pain.
"Why would you say that? I've never thought that, not even once. I love you for who you are. With everything you carry from the past. Didn't you tell me from the beginning about the abuse you went through? If I couldn't accept that, I wouldn't have married you. That abuse wasn't your fault, but the fault of vile men."
Marisha froze. Her breath hitched, her body unsteady. Without another word, she threw her arms around Zayden. Holding him tightly, as if trying to make sure he still belonged to her. That her husband hadn't yet been swayed by another woman. That her past hadn't ruined everything.
Marisha had spun countless lies for Zayden. He saw her as a victim, not the perpetrator. He loved her deeply, never once caring that she wasn't a virgin on their wedding night. If she had known she would marry a tycoon, she would've preserved her reputation.
But without Mike's money, she wouldn't have even stepped foot into that world. Her life would have remained as a kept woman for wealthy older men seeking warmth. Marisha used Mike's money to enter exclusive bars and high-end venues, hunting for the man she could trap. And yes, she found Zayden during one of his meetings with a foreign client.
Marisha had extorted Mike. That foolish man had bought her a house, an apartment, several luxury cars, a lavish monthly allowance, and countless expensive gifts. She drained him dry until he was bankrupt. That was the truth before Mike and his wife's tragic suicide.
To become Mrs. Malik, she had made countless sacrifices. Marisha closed her eyes tightly. She knew Zayden might have been telling the truth tonight. The lipstick stain might truly have had nothing to do with cheating. But she also knew that if she didn't get pregnant soon, it would happen eventually.
"I must have a child," she thought. "If I have a child, Zayden might love me even more. He might forgive my past when it eventually comes to light. The time when I was still the other woman. When I was still drunk at parties, surrounded by men. All of that could be erased by my status as the mother of his child."
She took a deep breath, burying her face into Zayden's chest, right above the lipstick stain that hadn't been wiped away. One thing was certain, Marisha would not lose. No matter who her opponent was.