บท 4: 4
Belinda's mother, Eva,a petite woman with a steely gaze, laid out the details over dinner. "You've been so busy with your career," she began gently. "But it's time to think about your future. We've found a suitable match, someone who comes from a good family, who can take care of you and continue our legacy."
Belinda's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening around her fork. She had worked hard to break free from the traditional expectations of her culture, to carve out a life for herself based on love and passion, not obligation and wealth. "I don't want an arranged marriage," she said firmly. "I want to choose who I spend my life with."
Her father sighed heavily, his brow furrowed with concern. "You know the importance of family," he said. "This marriage will bring us stability, security."
But Belinda had tasted freedom, and she wasn't about to give it up. She had seen Rachel's heart shatter into a million pieces, and she wasn't going to let that happen to her. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice strong and clear. "But I can't do this."
The tension at the dinner table was thick, the clink of silverware against plates echoing like a symphony of discord. Rachel looked at Adrian, her eyes filled with sadness. She had hoped that her friend's love story would be different, that she would be the one to break free from the shackles of expectation.
"I understand your feelings," Adrian said carefully, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But you know how important family is to us. Maybe if you give this a chance..."
Belinda pulled away, her eyes flashing with determination. "No," she said. "I won't settle for anything less than love."
Her parents exchanged a look that was a mix of disappointment and resignation. They had hoped that their successful daughter would understand the importance of tradition, but they had raised a woman of conviction, not a pawn in their game of social climbing.
The days that followed were filled with heated arguments and tears. Belinda's mother called her stubborn, her father called her ungrateful. But Belinda stood firm, her resolve unshaken. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn't a marriage based on anything other than love and mutual respect.
Her thoughts often drifted to Rachel, who was navigating her own storm. Rachel had moved out of the family home and into a small apartment, the walls echoing with the absence of Mark's presence. She threw herself into work, but the nights were long and lonely, the silence deafening.
One evening, as Rachel was tucking the twins into bed, she received a call from Mark. His voice was shaky, filled with a desperation she hadn't heard before. "I need to see you," he said. "I need to explain."
Rachel felt a flicker of anger, but it was quickly doused by fatigue. "What's left to say?" she replied, her voice flat. "You've already said enough."
Mark's voice cracked. "Please, Rach. I know it's bad, but it's not what you think."
Rachel's hand tightened around the phone. "What could possibly justify this?" she snapped. But curiosity and a desperate hope for closure won out. She agreed to meet him the following evening at a neutral location, a coffee shop in the middle of town.
The next day, Rachel walked into the coffee shop with a mix of anger and apprehension. Mark was already there, his eyes bloodshot and his usual confidence replaced by a tentative expression. He held out his hands in a plea for peace, and Rachel took a deep breath before sitting down.
"I'm not here for an apology," Rachel began, her voice firm. "I'm here for the truth. Why did you do it, Mark? Why did you lie to me, use me?"
Mark took a deep breath, his eyes avoiding hers. "It started as an affair," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it grew into something more. Linda...she made me feel alive again, like I had purpose."
Rachel felt the anger bubble up again. "And what about me?" she demanded. "What about our children? Our life together?"
Mark's gaze finally met hers, and she saw the regret in his eyes. "I know it's not enough," he said. "But I want to make it right."
Rachel felt a mix of anger and sadness. She had loved Mark, had built a life with him. But she knew that love alone wasn't enough to fix what had been broken. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice low.
Mark's eyes searched hers, desperation etched on his face. "I want to be a part of the twins' lives," he said. "And I want to make sure you're okay."
Rachel's heart hardened at his words. "You can't just decide to be a good husband and father when it suits you," she replied, her voice cold. "You made your choice."
"But Rachel," Mark said, his voice cracking. "I love you. I made a mistake."
"Don't," Rachel snapped, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare say that to me. You didn't make a mistake, Mark. You made a choice. A choice to betray me, to betray our family. And now you want to make it right?" She laughed, a hysterically that made the air around them feel colder. "You can't fix this with a sorry and a promise."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and final. Mark's shoulders slumped, and he nodded slowly. "I know," he whispered. "But I had to tell you. I can't live with this anymore."
Rachel stood, her chair scraping against the floor. "Then live with it," she said, turning away. "But don't expect me to forgive you or take you back. That's not how it works."
Mark reached out, but she was already gone. Rachel's steps echoed through the coffee shop, leaving him alone with his guilt and regret. Outside, the rain had started to fall, matching the tempest in her heart. She climbed into her car, her hands shaking as she started the engine. The drive back to the apartment was a blur of red lights and wet streets.
When she arrived, Rachel found a surprise waiting for her. Belinda and Adrian had come over, their faces a mix of worry and concern. The sight of their friendship brought a small measure of comfort, reminding Rachel that she wasn't alone. They had brought dinner, a simple spread of takeout and wine, and they sat around the tiny kitchen table, talking and laughing, trying to ease the ache in Rachel's chest.
As they talked, Rachel felt a shift in the air. The pain of Mark's betrayal still lingered, but it was now layered with a sense of camaraderie. The three of them had always been close, but the past month had forged a bond that was stronger than ever. They were a team, supporting each other through the dark times.
Adrian cleared his throat, his gaze moving from Rachel to Belinda and back again. "I've been thinking," he began, his voice tentative. "Maybe it's time for us to make some changes too."
Belinda and Rachel looked at him, their curiosity piqued. Rachel leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed over her chest. "What kind of changes?"
Adrian took a deep breath. "I've realized that life is too short for secrets and half-truths," he said, his eyes on Rachel. "I should have told you about Mark sooner. I was wrong to keep that from you."
Rachel nodded, her eyes misty. "Thank you," she whispered. "But what about us? What about our friendship?"
Adrian took a moment before responding. "Our friendship is more important to me than anything," he said, his voice earnest. "I don't ever want to lie to you again."
Rachel and Belinda exchanged glances, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Rachel felt a flicker of fear, wondering what other secrets her best friend had been keeping. "What do you mean?" she prompted.
Adrian took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Before I met you, Belinda, I had a son," he confessed. "His name is Alex, and he's six years old. I haven't seen him since he was a baby."
The room fell silent, Rachel's hand flying to her mouth. Belinda's eyes widened in shock. "What happened?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.
Adrian's gaze dropped to the table, his thumb tracing an invisible pattern on the wood. "His mother and I weren't ready to be together," he said, his voice tight. "We were just teenagers, and we had a falling out. She moved away before I even knew she was pregnant."
Rachel felt the air thicken around them, the weight of his secret pressing down on her. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Adrian looked up, his eyes meeting Rachel's. "I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid of how you'd see me, and how it might affect us. I didn't know how to explain it, or if I even had the right to be a part of his life."
Belinda's shock was palpable, her mind racing with questions and emotions. She had been with Adrian for so long, shared so much with him, and yet he had kept this monumental part of his life hidden from her. "How could you not tell me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have a son, and I had no idea."
Adrian's eyes searched hers, a look of pain and regret etched on his face. "I didn't know how," he replied, his voice raw with emotion. "I was scared, Belinda. Scared that it would change how you felt about me, that it would mess up what we have."
Belinda felt the ground beneath her shift. She had thought she knew Adrian inside and out, that their bond was unshakeable. Yet here she was, face to face with a part of him that she had never even imagined. "Why didn't you trust me?" she whispered, her voice laced with hurt.
Adrian's gaze remained on the table, unable to meet her eyes. "I did trust you," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It was a part of me that I buried so deep, I thought it was gone."
Belinda felt a storm of emotions raging within her. She had always known that Adrian was a good man, a man who would never intentionally cause her pain. Yet here she was, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under her. "You should have told me," she said, her voice trembling. "You should have trusted me."
Adrian looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "I know," he said, his voice cracking. "But it was so long ago, and it felt like a different life."
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Rachel reached out, placing a hand on Belinda's shoulder. "You can't blame him for being scared," she said softly. "We all have our secrets
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