The bedroom looked just as it had the last time she was there. Some of the clothes she hadn’t taken with her were still hanging in the closet. Picking up a couple of nightgowns, Mila headed to the bathroom.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she peeled off the clothes stained with wine.
Her skin was naturally pale, with a soft blush of pink, and her figure was both slender and curvaceous. Under the opulent crystal lights, she seemed to glow with a moonlit radiance. But as she turned, that glow took on a more somber hue. Her delicate skin was easily marred; now her back was mottled with bruises, as was her right calf.
Mila gazed at her reflection, her lips pressed into a thin line.
This was Lysander’s doing.
She had to remember. To never forget.
Ignoring the stinging pain, Mila washed herself, the steam causing a slight dizziness. She managed to slip into a comfortable, breathable nightgown.
The room was warm, thanks to the heating, so she wasn’t cold.
On the bedside table sat an unopened tube of ointment, likely brought up by Harper.
With unsteady steps, she walked over and tossed the ointment into the trash. Leonard had bought it; she wouldn’t use it, couldn’t use it.
Rifling through the cabinet, she found some of the baby cream she hadn’t finished.
With a child in the house, she was used to stocking up on supplies. She hadn’t taken these with her when she left, not having planned to fight for custody.
But tonight, it would come in handy…
Even though Lysander had told her to wait for him here tonight, Mila had no intention of doing so.
She had waited long enough in the past.
Whenever she was home, no matter how late, she’d wait for Lysander to return, leaving a light on for him, tending to his clothes with care and affection.
But she no longer wanted to wait.
Mila lay on her side on the bed, ready to go straight to sleep. It was only for one night, after all.
It didn’t matter when he came back.
…
But just as she closed her eyes, the door swung open.
Adrian came bounding into the room, clambering up to nudge the person lying on the bed.
Adrian…
She called softly, propping herself up on one hand to reach for her phone on the bedside table, intending to call Harper to take Adrian away.
She was truly exhausted and needed rest.
Before she could grab the phone, Adrian, feeling ignored, pushed her with a small hand, his voice filled with anger and hurt.
I hate you, Mom!
Though his push wasn’t strong, it snapped the taut string in Mila’s mind.
Her vision blurred, and with a dizzying sway of white light, she fainted onto the bed.
Mom?
Adrian froze for a moment, his face turning ashen.
Two seconds later, he was screaming and crying.