Chapter 1: The Rainy Night

The rain pounded against the windows, a relentless rhythm that matched the turmoil inside my chest. I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to ease the gnawing pain that had settled deep within me. Mark was out again, lost in the world of his "white moonlight," Chloe, while I was left behind to drown in solitude.

Our marriage had once felt like a dream. But dreams can turn into nightmares when the one you love treats you like a ghost. I had sacrificed so much for him, convinced that love would conquer all, but with each passing day, I realized I was merely a shadow in his life.

I felt my phone buzz on the table, the harsh light cutting through the dim room. I glanced at the screen and saw his name. Part of me wanted to ignore it, but I couldn't help the flicker of hope that maybe this time, he would ask about me. Maybe this time, he would care.

"Hey," I answered, forcing cheerfulness into my voice.

"Lila, I'm busy," he said, his tone clipped. "Can you just… not?"

The disappointment washed over me like a cold wave. "I just wanted to—"

"Not now. I'll call you later." And just like that, he hung up, leaving me with nothing but silence and the pounding rain.

I stood up, my heart heavy as I walked to the kitchen. The memories of happier times flooded back—laughter shared over candlelit dinners, his warm smile as he held me close. But those moments felt like ancient history, overshadowed by the cruel reality of my life.

As the storm intensified outside, so did my own storm within. I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen, a reminder that I was pregnant—something I had thought would bring us closer, but instead had only driven a wedge between us. He didn't want to be tied down. He wanted freedom, and I was just a burden.

I curled onto the kitchen floor, clutching my belly as the pain grew sharper. "Please," I whispered, but the room echoed back my desperation. I grabbed my phone, dialing 911 with shaking hands.

"Help," I gasped, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I need an ambulance. I'm—"

Before I could finish my sentence, the pain surged, overwhelming me. I cried out, the darkness creeping in around the edges of my vision. I could feel my strength waning as I crawled toward the door, desperate for help. "Please, someone!" I screamed into the void.

Hours later, I woke up in a sterile hospital room, the beeping machines surrounding me a jarring reminder of reality. My heart sank as the memories rushed back—the pain, the loss. My baby was gone.

A nurse entered, her eyes kind yet filled with pity. "You had a miscarriage. I'm so sorry."

The words felt like daggers. I had lost everything. Mark hadn't even bothered to come. I glanced at my phone, but there were no messages, no calls. It was just me—alone in a world that had suddenly become unbearably dark.

In that moment, clarity struck me like lightning. I would never win his love. I was nothing but a ghost in his life, a prisoner in a marriage that had suffocated my spirit. With a newfound determination, I vowed to take back my life.

Two years later, I would return, transformed, ready to break the chains that had bound me. But tonight, I was just a woman lost in the rain, desperate for the light.