Love to the End, Hard to Stop

A few minutes later, Finn emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, humming some carefree tune. When he saw me glaring at him, his smile faltered, awkwardly hanging in the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

I sneered. “You look like a man in love.”

Finn blinked, taken aback for a moment before forcing a nervous laugh. “What are you talking about? Go take a shower too—you smell of alcohol.”

By the time I was out of the shower and back in the bedroom, Finn was already sprawled across the bed, waiting. As soon as I lay down, he moved to press himself on top of me, his intentions clear.

I pushed him away with more force than I intended, my words sharp and cold. “Aren’t you tired? I don’t want you to exhaust yourself. Just sleep.”

Finn looked stunned, clearly not expecting rejection. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his face, but then he simply deflated, rolling to the side like a balloon losing all its air.

The next morning, as he headed to the bathroom, I dragged myself out of bed, preparing to follow my usual routine. Picking out his clothes had become a habit, one that seemed automatic after years of playing the role of a dutiful wife. But as I opened the wardrobe, something felt off. His clothes were already laid out—bright-colored shirts and flashy ties, nothing like what I would have chosen. Finn had always preferred dark, muted tones. His once staple black and navy suits had been replaced by a sleek silver-gray, a color that softened his usual sharpness.

I stood there, glaring at the outfit, bile rising in my throat. These weren’t my choices. I had built his wardrobe. I had shaped how he presented himself. Now, someone else had slithered in and taken over, piece by piece. Tonia, of course. I clenched my fists. She was already sinking her claws into every part of him.

Instinctively, I reached into the pocket of one of his suits and pulled out a box of blue pills. A sneer tugged at my lips. So this was what it took for him to keep up with her? Every day, just to satisfy Tonia? The disgust simmered in my gut. It didn’t surprise me when he didn’t bother to come home that night or even send a message.

Late into the night, I received a call from Marcie, the maid who had been with the Delacroix Family for as long as I could remember. Her voice was strained as she told me that my father had suffered a heart attack and was in critical condition. He had asked for me—asked for Finn, too.

Panic seized me as I fumbled for my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed Finn’s number. The phone rang endlessly, each beep gnawing at my nerves, feeding the growing pit of dread in my stomach. Just as I was about to hang up, there was a soft click. The call connected, but no one spoke. The silence was unnerving—until I heard it.

Heavy breathing. Faint, breathless moans. My heart clenched as a woman's voice echoed through the receiver, laced with pleasure.

“Ah, I can't take it anymore. You're just so good, baby!”

Rage surged through me, hot and suffocating, nearly boiling over. I ended the call with a trembling hand, my entire body shaking with fury. Every fiber of my being screamed for release, but there was no time to fall apart. My father was waiting.

I rushed to his side, my heart heavy with grief, arriving just in time to see him before he slipped away. His frail hand gripped mine, his strength fading fast. His eyes, once sharp, were now clouded with pain and disappointment.

“Your husband... where is he? Why didn’t he come with you?" His voice was barely a whisper, each word a struggle.

Through my tears, I forced myself to lie, choking on the words as they left my mouth. “He’s working late, Dad. He couldn’t answer the phone.” My voice cracked under the weight of the falsehood, but I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

His eyes darkened, filled with a deep sadness I had never seen before. He squeezed my hand with the last of his strength, his final words piercing through the haze of my grief.

“Finn... is unreliable. You should... divorce him.”

And then he was gone. His hand slipped from mine as I held his lifeless body, the sobs breaking free from my chest in violent waves. I wept until I could hardly breathe. And still, Finn didn’t come.

Hours later, as I sat in the cold, empty hospital room, my phone buzzed. Finn’s name flashed across the screen and for a brief moment, I hoped—stupidly—that he’d finally come to his senses.

“Hey, honey! What’s up?” His voice was casual, as if nothing had happened, as if my world hadn’t just crumbled around me. “Sorry I missed your call—I was so busy with work. If it’s not urgent, I’ll catch up with you later.”

My fingers tightened around the phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I buried my father alone. I arranged everything—the funeral, the burial, the final goodbyes—while Finn remained absent. During that time, not once did he call, not once did he send a message to check on me. He was as distant as ever, completely detached from the pain he’d caused.

When I finally returned home, the house felt foreign. I noticed things that didn’t belong—a half-empty bottle of wine I never bought, a pair of women’s slippers by the door. Another woman had invaded my life, taken over my place in this house while I had been consumed by grief. Fury surged through me again, bitter and sharp.

I didn’t hesitate. With disgust curling in my chest, I gathered everything that didn’t belong—every trace of her—and threw it all into the trash.

Then I heard Finn humming happily behind the bedroom door, his carefree tune grating against my nerves. The sound of muffled voices reached me before the door creaked open. When he stepped out, Finn wasn’t alone. Tonia trailed behind him, her presence clinging to the air like stale perfume. Both of them froze, startled to find me sitting on the sofa, waiting like a predator watching its prey.

“Nina? I-I didn’t know you were back,” Finn stammered, his voice shaky as he fumbled to regain composure. His eyes darted nervously between me and Tonia, the color draining from his face.

Ignoring him, I let my gaze shift to Tonia. She was wearing a sleek, tight-fitting dress that screamed of attention, her lipstick slightly smudged, but she made no move to fix it. My voice dripped with sarcasm as I spoke, my words sharp and cutting. “Did I surprise you?”

Tonia’s eyes flickered with discomfort. She hesitated for a second, then forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, I’m Tonia. Finn and I work together.” Her tone was too light, too forced. “You must be his wife?”

“Nina,” I said flatly, my lips barely moving as I spat the name out like a bitter pill. I didn’t bother to offer a smile or any pleasantries—there was no need for that anymore.

Finn’s face twisted in awkwardness, his gaze shifting from me to Tonia, then back again, like a man caught in a trap. He tried to explain, words stumbling out of his mouth. “W-we were just heading to meet a client and… Tonia needed to use the bathroom. So, I thought we’d stop by here for a minute.”

Tonia, sensing the tension, quickly nodded, jumping in to back him up. “Yes, exactly! Just a quick stop.” Her voice was high-pitched, strained, as she tried to keep up the facade. “But we should get going now. We’re in a hurry, right?” She threw a glance at Finn, eager to escape.

They turned their backs to me without another word, walking out of the house hand in hand like I was nothing but a shadow in the corner. The door clicked shut behind them and I sat there, watching them go, my hands clenched into fists. The room felt suffocating, every breath a reminder of the betrayal that had long settled between us.

A wave of cold, bitter self-mockery washed over me. I’d given up so much—my pride, my independence—all for him. And here he was, slipping out the door with another woman as if I didn’t even exist.

But now, there was no more doubt. The decision I had been avoiding for so long was suddenly crystal clear. I had finally made up my mind.