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"What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."
~Helen Keller
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V I C T O R I A
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A week had passed since Dominic brought us back to the place I once called my sweet heaven. This house held so many memories—both sweet and bitter. It echoed with laughter that was once shared because of him and the tears that had fallen because of him too.
When I told my father about moving back, he was furious. That evening, when Dominic came to pick us up, my father gave him a look so intense that I wondered if looks could kill—Dominic would surely have been six feet under.
I sighed, glancing at the clock. It was already dinner time, and Asher was likely eagerly waiting for his father to come home. The soup on the stove was finally done, so I turned off the flame and headed toward my room—yes, my room. Dominic had left me no choice but to come here, but at least he didn’t force me to share a room with him. For that, I was grateful.
The master bedroom, once ours, was now his alone. He had claimed it on the first floor, while Asher’s new room was next to his. Dominic had renovated it beautifully, painting the walls a calming blue and filling it with toys, games, and cartoons that danced along the walls. Right beside Asher’s room was mine, a space that felt like a refuge, separate from the life I once shared with Dominic.
As I stood in the doorway of my room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past week. The house was familiar, yet it felt different—like a place caught between the memories of what was and the uncertainty of what might be. Living under the same roof as Dominic had been surprisingly civil, even if the tension between us lingered just beneath the surface.
I ran my fingers over the smooth wood of the doorframe, taking a moment to collect myself before heading downstairs. Asher’s giggles echoed through the hall, a reminder of the innocence I was here to protect. No matter how conflicted I felt, I knew I had to keep moving forward—for him.
I took a deep breath and made my way back to the kitchen, where Asher was already setting the table, his little hands carefully arranging the napkins. He looked up at me with a bright smile, and for a moment, all the worry melted away.
“Daddy’s almost home, right, Mommy?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
I forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, sweetie. He’ll be home soon.”
As I poured the soup into the bowls, I heard the sound of Dominic’s car pulling into the driveway. Instantly, Asher’s face lit up with excitement, and he bolted towards the door, shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at my baby’s enthusiasm. But when I turned around, I was met with the sight of Dominic and Marco walking gracefully towards me, or rather, towards the dining room.
Asher quickly jumped into his father’s arms, his eyes wide with curiosity as he noticed Marco. “Daddy, who is he?”
Dominic smiled warmly at our son. “Buddy, he’s your uncle Marco. He’s a friend of Mommy and Daddy’s from childhood.”
“Like I have friends in Australia?” Asher asked, his innocent eyes reflecting his understanding of friendship.
Dominic nodded, still smiling. “Yes, buddy, just like that.”
Dinner proceeded with Asher’s curious glances and endless questions, some directed at Dominic and others at Marco. He was fascinated by the idea of someone being his parents’ friend from so long ago. Meanwhile, I sat quietly, my eyes fixed on my plate, not daring to look up at Marco. I didn’t even offer him a smile.
The truth was, I was still very angry with him. Marco, whom I had once considered a friend, had betrayed me just as Dominic had. I had trusted him, treated him like family, and in return, he had let me down in the worst way possible.
I could feel Marco’s gaze on me a few times, but I refused to acknowledge it. My heart was still heavy with the hurt he had caused, and I wasn’t ready to let that go. Not yet. So I focused on Asher, answering his questions and laughing at his little jokes.
Once dinner was over, I quickly busied myself with clearing the table, avoiding any interaction with Marco. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, but tonight, I wasn’t ready to confront the tangled web of emotions.
But my luck always seems to fail me. As I noticed Asher yawning, sleepiness softening his innocent eyes, I thought I’d found the perfect excuse to escape. But, as always, my luck betrayed me. Dominic beat me to it, scooping our son into his arms. “It’s Asher’s bedtime,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’m taking him up to tuck him in.” With that, he left the room, leaving me alone with Marco.
I sighed, the weight of the situation settling in. Silently, I began placing the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, hoping to avoid any conversation. But then I heard Marco’s voice beside me.
“Honeybee…”
The nickname made my stomach twist, and I snapped, “Don’t call me that.”
There was a pause before Marco spoke again, his voice laced with regret. “Victoria, I’m sorry.”
I stopped what I was doing and turned to face him, anger and hurt flashing in my eyes. “Sorry? Do you really think that’s enough? After everything you and Dominic put me through, you think an apology can just fix it?”
Marco looked at me, his expression filled with guilt. “I know I hurt you. I know I betrayed your trust, and for that, I’m deeply sorry. But you have to understand—I never wanted things to turn out this way. I never wanted to hurt you.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “But you did, Marco. You stood by and watched as everything fell apart, as my world crumbled. And now, what? You just expect me to forgive and forget?”
He shook his head, taking a step closer. “No, I don’t expect that. I don’t even know if I deserve your forgiveness. But I want you to know that I regret it. Every day, I regret what happened." but then he paused and giving me a sad smile with a conflicted expression.
“But you know what?” he said, his gaze piercing through the tension. “I will never regret giving him the dare.”
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. His words hung in the air, heavy with a meaning that cut deeper than any apology could have. My hands, still hovering over the last dish, trembled as I tried to process what he had just said.
"why?” I whispered, my voice barely audible as the anger surged within me. “You don’t regret setting all of this in motion? Destroying everything I believed in?”
Marco’s eyes held a mixture of regret and something else, something darker. “I regret the way things turned out, yes. I regret that you got hurt. But I don’t regret pushing Dominic.
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End of the chapter
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