Chapter 32: Never Again
Lara left the house without seeing Lucas.
She didn't know where he had gone, maybe to his room, maybe outside. She didn't care to find out. She didn't even want to. She had nothing left to say. All she wanted now was to be somewhere she could finally breathe.
The drive to her condo was a quiet blur of city streets and red traffic lights. The sun had risen fully now, casting a soft glow over the skyline. As she turned into the underground parking of the high-rise building, a sense of detached calm washed over her. Her new reality had begun.
After finding a space, she parked, turned off the engine, and took a deep breath. She got out, opened the trunk, and pulled out her suitcase. The wheels of her luggage echoed in the garage as she walked toward the elevator and pressed the button to her floor.
Once the doors slid open, she stepped into the sleek, modern hallway and made her way to her unit. She unlocked the door and was immediately greeted by the crisp scent of lavender and lemon, probably from the weekly cleaner her parents had quietly kept in place over the years.
The condo was just as she remembered; pristine, luxurious, and oddly untouched.
The unit boasted a minimalist yet elegant interior. Warm tones dominated the space; pearled ivory walls, washed oak wood flooring, and white-and-gold accent fixtures that gave the place a timeless charm.
The living room was spacious, featuring a plush cream sectional couch, a white marble coffee table resting atop a plush ivory rug, and a curved 65-inch TV mounted across it. Tall ceramic vases with delicate white orchids were placed by the corners, and the indoor plants along with muted abstract paintings gave the place a quiet charm.
The dining area had a sleek rectangular table with pearl-gray chairs, positioned right next to the floor-to-ceiling fiber-glass windows, framing a stunning panoramic view of the city skyline. Even in daylight, the glass shimmered, giving the illusion of floating above the busy streets below.
Her parents had insisted she keep the place, even when she married Lucas.
Thank God she did.
She made her way upstairs. The tempered glass railings on the staircase gave a clear view of the living space below as she ascended to the second floor.
The master bedroom was just as spacious, if not more. A soft white queen-sized bed draped with a plush lavender duvet and a mix of pastel pillows sat in the middle, flanked by white-rimmed nightstands. The floors were light oak, complementing the white and rose-toned furniture. A walk-in closet sat on one side, while a full-length mirror and a vanity table lined another, and on the left was a sliding door opened to a private bathroom.
On the far side of the room, double glass doors led to a balcony where a small coffee table and two wicker Luna Lounge chairs with plush pillows were placed neatly on the left, surrounded by potted plants and hanging lights. On the right hung a small oval-shaped hammock nestled beneath a large artificial cherry blossom tree, something her mom had added as a surprise years ago.
She stepped into the walk-in closet and stopped at the sight before her.
Her things were still there.
Designer bags lined the upper shelves, shoes arranged in perfect order along the wall, and rows of designer clothes from her college days hung neatly in the closet. One small glass display table held luxury watches, while another larger one held delicate gold necklaces, statement earrings, and rings she had forgotten she even owned. Dust hadn't claimed anything. The cleaner had clearly done her job well.
For a moment, she just stood there, staring.
These things felt like echoes of a girl she used to be. Someone loved. Someone spoiled and treasured. A far cry from the woman who spent the last three years trying to earn affection from a man who never saw her worth.
Her reflection in the mirror caught her attention.
How did she fall from this… to that?
From being the cherished daughter to the unwanted wife... what a downgrade really, Lara.
Her chest ached, but she didn't cry.
She let out a breath, part exhaustion, part clarity.
Never again, she vowed silently.
She'll never let herself feel that worthless again.
With that, she unzipped her suitcase and began to unpack. She neatly place her clothes into drawers, hung the dresses in one section of the closet, organized the bags and shoes she brought in the corner shelf, and arranged her makeup on the vanity table. Then she carried her toiletries to the bathroom. It has a sleek, perlato imperial marble-tiled with beige and pale golden fixtures, white whirlpool jetted bathtub on the side and a glass frame the separate the shower. It was the kind of bathroom you could lose hours in.
She moved next into the adjoining study-library. A warm, cozy space that smelled faintly of old books and cedar. Shelves lined the walls, filled with novels and textbooks. A cream couch sat in the middle for reading or naps, a soft throw draped over one side. A sturdy mahogany desk stood near the window, where she placed her laptop, planner, and her teaching materials, preparing her workspace.
After that, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. It was modern and spacious, with quartz countertops, a smart fridge, an induction cooktop, and shelves lined with ceramic jars and matte black utensils. It looked like a set from a home interior magazine. Almost too perfect.
Her fingers brushed across the cool surface of the island counter, and a small smile formed on her lips.
Everything she needed was there.
And it felt good. Almost therapeutic.
Cooking had always been her favorite activity to past time, a sweet escape from reality. It reminded her of simple joys, of home, of quiet Sunday mornings before life grew complicated.
She glanced at the clock. 10:07 AM.
The fridge and pantry were empty so she needed to stock up.
She grabbed her wallet, slipped into flats, and left the unit.
The supermarket was just a fifteen-minute drive away, and she spent nearly two hours picking out what she needed—snacks, frozen meals, fresh produce, cleaning supplies, toiletries, and other essentials. Her cart was full, but she didn't mind. It felt good, normal even, to be doing something for herself again.
She wheeled two full boxes of groceries out to the car and loaded them into the trunk herself, not thinking twice about the weight. Years of being strong on her own had prepared her for this.
On the way home, she made a quick detour through the McDonald's drive-thru. She ordered without hesitation: one-piece chicken with rice, a Quarter Pounder with cheese, Chicken McNuggets, BFF fries, a McFloat, and a Mango Passion Fizz.
Not exactly the healthiest meal, but she didn't care.
She was starving, and craving something familiar. Something that didn't require her to try so hard.
Comfort food for a woman finally learning to comfort herself.