Camelia’s POV

I had always known my husband had shadows, but I never thought I would find myself competing with one. Not a woman in flesh and blood, not someone who had clawed her way into his bed, but the memory of someone he couldn’t let go of—Alina.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening. The rain tapped against the balcony glass, soft and rhythmic, like a lullaby. I set two glasses of wine on the low table and waited for him. Dinner had gone cold hours ago, as usual. Barry’s meetings always stretched longer than any wife should tolerate, but I’d grown used to it. Or maybe I...