REINA

The door to our apartment felt heavier than usual as I pushed it open. The silence that greeted me was deafening. No lights on. No scent of Paolo’s cologne lingering in the air. Just emptiness. I stood there in the doorway for a long moment, still wearing Domenico’s oversized shirt beneath his coat like some shameful secret branded into my skin. My body ached in ways that reminded me of every touch, every thrust, every whispered promise from the night before. And Paolo wasn’t here.

He still wasn’t back.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it quickly dissolved into something closer to a sob. Today was the day after our wedding anniversary. The night he had vomited on me during what was supposed to be an intimate moment—our attempt to reconnect—and then he’d left me there, half-naked and humiliated, without so much as a word. No calls. No messages. Nothing. He had abandoned me in the worst possible way and hadn’t even bothered to check if I was okay.

I dropped my bag on the floor and kicked off my shoes, the tile cold against my bare feet. "Where the hell are you, Paolo?" I whispered into the quiet apartment. Unhappiness settled deep in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I had needed him last night. I had needed my husband to pull me back from the edge Domenico had pushed me over. Instead, he had practically thrown me into Domenico’s arms with his absence.

Guilt clawed at my throat as memories flooded in. The way Domenico had touched me. The things I had begged for. The way I had ridden him, crying and moaning like I belonged to him. I hadn’t wanted any of it again. I had sworn to myself it would never happen again. But Paolo’s disappearance had left a void, and Domenico had filled it so completely.

I couldn’t think about that right now. If I did, I would break.

My legs carried me to the bathroom on autopilot. I flicked on the light and stared at the small white stick sitting on the edge of the sink—the pregnancy test I had dipped into my urine late last night before rushing out to Domenico’s building in a haze of panic. I had been too terrified to look at it then. Too scared of what the universe might be punishing me with.

My hands shook violently as I picked it up.

Two pink lines.

Clear. Undeniable. Positive.

The world tilted beneath me. A raw, guttural sob tore from my chest as I sank to the bathroom floor, the test clutched in my trembling fingers. "No... God, no..." Tears streamed down my face, hot and endless. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

I was pregnant.

And deep in my fractured heart, I knew it wasn’t Paolo’s.

The realization crushed me. I curled into myself, forehead pressed against the cold tile as violent sobs wracked my body. "What have I done?" I cried out loud, my voice breaking. "What the fuck have I done to us? To myself?"

Images flashed through my mind—Domenico’s gentle mouth on my heavy, aching breasts this morning. The way he had fed me breakfast like I was something precious. The changes in my body I had tried to ignore. The vomiting. The strange cravings. The emotional storms. It all made horrible, perfect sense now.

I was carrying Domenico’s child.

The guilt was suffocating. Paolo hadn’t even properly touched me before so I couldn’t even lie to myself that this was his. And now... now I had destroyed everything in one reckless, weak night after another. I had let Domenico claim me again and again while my husband was God-knows-where.

With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed Paolo’s number. It rang. And rang. And rang. Straight to voicemail.

"Paolo, please pick up," I whispered desperately after the beep, my voice thick with tears. "I need you. I need to talk to you. Something happened... I... I made a terrible mistake. Please come home. I’m so sorry. I love you. Just... come back to me. Please."

I hung up and immediately called again. Voicemail. Again and again. Each unanswered ring felt like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. He wasn’t there. The one person who was supposed to anchor me had left me completely adrift.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I needed someone. Anyone.

My fingers found Calestino’s number before my brain could catch up. He answered on the second ring.

"Reina? What’s wrong?" His voice was instantly alert, laced with concern.

I broke down completely, sobbing into the phone. "Calestino... I’m pregnant."

Silence on the other end for a heartbeat. Then, softly, "Reina..."

"I don’t know what to do," I cried, the words pouring out like a dam had burst. "I took the test last night and checked the result this morning. It’s positive. But Paolo isn’t home. He left me last night after... after he got sick on me during our anniversary. He hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. And I... I slept with Domenico again. I didn’t want to, but I was weak and lonely and now I’m carrying his baby. I’m pregnant with another man’s child while my husband is gone. How do I tell him? How do I fix this? I’ve ruined everything. Everything!"

My voice cracked into ugly, heaving sobs. I felt so small. So dirty. So completely lost.

"Reina, breathe," Calestino said gently, though I could hear the shock in his tone. "Take a deep breath for me. I’m here. You’re not alone in this. I’m not going to let you get hurt, okay? Just trust me and calm down for now, okay?"

"But I am alone," I whispered brokenly. "Paolo isn’t here. He pushed me toward this without even knowing it. And now there’s a baby... Domenico’s baby... growing inside me. I can feel my body changing already. My breasts are so heavy and sensitive. I vomited this morning. I have these insane cravings. And I hate myself so much. I hate what I’ve become."

Tears wouldn’t stop flowing. I rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor, clutching the positive test like it was evidence of my crimes.

"I was supposed to be a good wife," I choked out. "We were supposed to have our own family. And now... now I’m trapped. Domenico looked at me this morning like I already belonged to him completely. Like he knew. What if he finds out? What if Paolo finds out? I don’t know what to do, Calestino. I’m so scared. I’m terrified. I should have listened to you... I should have stopped having sex with Domenico. This is my fault.."

The line was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, his voice full of careful empathy. "We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. But you need to breathe. For the baby’s sake, if nothing else."

The baby.

Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks as I placed a trembling hand over my still-flat stomach. A tiny life was in there. Innocent. Unknowing. Conceived in sin and weakness and forbidden pleasure.

"I don’t deserve this," I whispered. "I don’t deserve any of it. Or maybe I do deserve it... I don’t even know. I’m not sure of anything anymore. I wish this is not real. I wish this is just a dream."

But it was happening anyway.

And as I sat there on the cold floor, broken and terrified, I realized the worst part wasn’t the positive test or Paolo’s absence.

It was the small, dark part of me that wondered what Domenico would do when he eventually found out.

And whether a part of me was already too attached to ever truly run away.