Today I had a second shot in my treatment schedule. Dr. Marshall gave me another class on how to do it on my own, as scary as it may look like, and I've made up my mind that I'll try doing it at home from tomorrow onward, and God help me with that.

As I return home my mood is blue. I'm feeling depressed somehow, and worried for some unknown reason. It's as if there's a deep hollow inside my heart and I'm not sure how to fill it, and what to fill. Maybe I'm thinking too much about everything.

It's still early in the afternoon, the sky a mixture of gray and gold from faint sunlight mingled with thick clouds. Is it going to rain? I can't tell. I hardly understand London's weather anyway, but I find solace in its eeriness, for it's a resemblance of my predicament.

Lying on my side, I hug the pillow tight, and another rests between my thighs in a comforting manner. The image of Scarlet and Liam being together refuses to leave my mind, even though at the back of my mind I know she's just the woman he once loved and nothing more. 

Minutes go by and eventually they turn into an hour. My eyes give up and succumb to darkness until a long moment later when smooth rain begins to pour. A hopeful smile tugs on my lips as I wake up, and in my heart it feels like a beautiful promise of the future. 

"Everything will be fine, Kira. Let's be patient." I yawn and rise up at the same time.

And it appears that I haven't eaten anything today except for a cup of tea. Not healthy, I know. If my meticulous husband learns about this I won't hear the end of it. I've been warned about the side effects of the treatment but I hope my loss of appetite isn't on the list.

After getting fully dressed I advance downstairs and head straight to the kitchen. Mrs. Prescott and Lisa are busy cooking while talking, and the smell of baked potatoes and green beans slap my nose as I walk in. My tummy growls, aroused at last.

"Are you okay, ma'am? Do you need anything" Mrs. Prescott asks, her eyes tender and worrisome. 

She's placing an apple pie inside the oven, her attention divided between the pie dish and my presence.

"I'm good. I need to have some water first," I answer while striding over toward the breakfast table, on which a jug of water and glasses are neatly placed.  

"I don't think you had lunch today. Did you?" Mrs. Prescott asks me.

"Um . . ." I pause while emptying the glass of water, and clear my throat when I'm done. Sighing refreshed, I finally answer, "It's true, I'm starving."

"As you should be. You barely ate ever since Sir Liam left," Lisa says bluntly.

I huff a soft laugh. "That's not true."

"Really? Name one moment that you had a decent meal?" Lisa interrogates in that English accent of hers.

"Okay, child, that's enough." Mrs. Prescott shuts the oven while glaring at Lisa. Her expression softens when she looks at me and says, "Take a seat, and let me take care of you, Kira. As much as I hate to agree with this capricious girl, I think she's right this time."

Oh boy. Now you surely look like a clumsy girlfriend and not a wife! My subconscious rumbles inside.

"You'll love the food I made, I promise," Mrs. Prescott says warmly, giving me a smooth motherly smile. But it does so quickly when she says, "You look pale today. Are you sure you're okay?"

I nod while pulling a chair. "Maybe it's the weather. I'm not feeling too well."

Or maybe I'm stressed. I don't really know what's wrong with me but I'm not okay today. If I was in L.A swimming would probably be my option right now. 

"When are we starting decorating the house?" Lisa chirps in, her hands occupied by the dishes she's washing.

"Um, tomorrow maybe? We need the Christmas tree and ornaments, right?" I take a seat on the chair and the phone grabs half of my attention.

"Yay! I love decorating the Christmas tree!" Lisa sounds excited. I smile feebly at her and proceed to browse on my phone. 

"You know what? I'll start by bringing the decorations from last year; the ones Mrs. Eleanor bought." She wipes her hands hastily using her apron.

"Only after you finish those dishes, Lisa," Mrs. Prescott admonishes her. The little blonde halts in her tracks and I burst into giggles. "You heard Mrs. Kira. We'll do it tomorrow. To-mo-rrow!" Her glance is indisputable. 

Poor Lisa. But I always enjoy her banter.

"Sure, Godmother!" Lisa pouts. She reluctantly turns around and resumes her attention back to the dishes. 

Smiling, I send Roshni a text, asking about her trip and how everything is at her home. And suddenly there's a call from Sam. I blink twice to make sure, and it's indeed my friend's call. 

"How unexpected," I mutter under my breath.

Mrs. Prescott is setting the table as I get up with a smile on my face. I give the ladies an apologetic smile. "Just a little moment, I'll be back," I say and leave.

My conversation with Sam is hardly something I'd want an old and wise woman like Mrs. Prescott to hear. We can be vulgar and I do care about my reputation.

"Hey." I'm already on the phone.

"Hi, Kiki. I'm not even gonna ask what time it is over there, because what I have to say can't wait," Sam replies urgently. "How are you first?"

"Um . . . Okay?" I frown slightly. "And that first remark is very disturbing. Why? What's the matter?" I ask. 

Through the door I make my exit, heading toward the living room. Silence engulfs the atmosphere, the house too big for my loneliness, and faintly I hear the rain drumming outside in a soothing tone. 

"Yeah, it's fucking disturbing because I'm practically gawking right now," Sam says hysterically. "Is your husband at home?" 

My husband? My frown deepens.

"No, Liam is in Germany for a business trip so I'm . . . literally alone at home." I don't understand why Sam would want to know this, however. "Is there any problem? Are you okay?" I'm suddenly worried, several scenarios running through my head.

Hopefully nothing horrid has happened to her or the baby.

"Yes, I'm fine. Super fine, actually. But hey . . . I don't know if I should tell you this or not," Sam utters hesitantly. 

"Tell me what?" I begin feeling wary, my heart thrumming a little faster.

Not the bad news please! I've had enough already for a single moment.

"No, I can't tell you, Kiki. In fact, I-I shouldn't have called," Sam mutters. 

What the fuck! I huff with mild agitation.

"Hold right there, Samantha! What is it? You are either going to tell me why you called, or forget to ever call me again for a song as I live. I know you have something important to say, so say it!" I snap.

I hate it when people create a suspense and then decide to leave you hanging.

"Oh boy," Sam murmurs and sighs in a confusing fashion. "Okay, I won't say it from my mouth so I'm sending it to you."

"Send me what?" 

Sam sighs again, adding much to my dismay. "Look, you do know that I'm nosy, right?" she says matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you are. And so?" I respond.

Just what the hell is she trying to say, damn it? I hate being in riddles.

"Well, being idle and all, I've become an online stalker over the people I know, including Malik and his ex lover—that French bitch," Sam explains and it's still bemusing on my part. "In other words, I live on Instagram nowadays and—"

"Okay enough, Sam! Tell me what happened to the French witch and stop roaming around the bushes! Or better yet, just send me whatever that is!" I fail to hold onto my patience. 

"Okay, Madam. Why are you so bitter?" Sam remarks, her voice surprised.

"I am bitter Sam. You got that right. So end it to me right now or else I'll lose it." I hang up and take a deep breath.

What's wrong with me? Why am I so repulsive and restless today as if something bad is going to happen? Breathing in and out, repeatedly, I slowly manage to restore my withering composure. 

I wait patiently for Sam's message while staring outside through the great living room window overlooking the garden. The rain and serene shades of green become a therapy for my nerves.

The phone pings and I quickly divert my attention. There's a screenshot of an article or something sent by Sam. Eyes squinted, I check the contents carefully, and my blood heats up when I comprehend what's on the photo attached, together with a bold headline that has my eyes wide.

"No," I laugh nervously, my voice laced with utter disbelief. "It can't be. He can't do this to me."

My moist eyes are still on the screen as I try to read the headline for the second time, just to be sure that I'm not making any mistake here, but no. Even if the paparazzi words lie, the picture I'm seeing surely tells it all.

THE MUNICH SNOW REKINDLES THE FLAMES OF ROMANCE?: Scarlet Orton and her billionaire ex-boyfriend having a moment in Rocco Forte Hotel.  

They are together. They are together. They've been together all along. The thoughts keep replaying in my mind and yet I can't believe my eyes that are stuck on the screen of my mobile.

Why is he with her? The balking scent of infidelity aches my every fiber. I want this to be unreal but the reality says otherwise. It's my husband and his beloved ex. They are really together in Germany.

"Bastard!" I growl angrily, tears burning in my eyes intensely. "You're such a bastard, Liam! A liar!" 

My heart shatters into a million pieces as I take another look at the photo, reading all the details entailed. My husband's hand seems to be holding Scarlet's on the table, both seated cozily behind the fireplace. 

It looks like a restaurant, and all I see is intimacy shared by them. I want to scream and yell loudly. That's how angry I feel right now. I'm angry at him, I'm at her, and mostly to myself for never being enough.