"What?"
"Wait a second!" Darius's parents exclaimed in unison after hearing Elle's revelation.
Mr. and Mrs. Alcaraz hadn't expected Elle's sudden and unannounced visit—especially not with her parents in tow. Though shocked by the visit, they remained polite. In fact, they were genuinely happy to see their youngest son's wife again, whom they hadn't seen in a long time due to her living abroad.
But behind the smiles, Mrs. Alcaraz felt something she couldn't immediately explain. It was a nagging feeling—like something was wrong, like the woman was hiding something.
"Wait... uhm, I—I think I need to call my son," she said after a heavy silence settled over everyone.
She quickly instructed the maid to bring water and a calming medicine. Meanwhile, Mr. Alcaraz sat in stunned silence—still unable to fully process what he'd just heard.
Darius had never mentioned anything about separating from Elle. As far as they knew, he had spent nearly a month in San Francisco with her, supposedly to handle documents for their plan to hire a surrogate mother.
According to their son, Elle couldn't bear children due to a medical condition—but he never went into detail.
They had a lot of trust in Darius. They knew he was old enough and responsible enough to manage his own married life. So, they respected all of his decisions.
But now, as they sat facing each other, a quiet but undeniable truth began to settle in the room: something major had been kept from them. And now, it was finally erupting.
A few minutes later, they heard the gate open and the sound of a car pulling in—its engine still running as someone rushed out.
"That must be Darius," Mrs. Alcaraz said softly, her voice tinged with nervousness.
Everyone exchanged looks. Elle, though trying to stay composed, couldn't hide her trembling hands. Her father let out a heavy sigh while her mother sat quietly, head bowed, as if trying to avoid whatever storm was coming.
Darius walked into the house, a stethoscope still around his neck, clearly just coming off a shift, but moving quickly through the mansion.
"Mom? Dad? What's the probl—" he stopped mid-sentence upon noticing the visitors. His jaw tightened and his hand clenched in his pocket.
His eyes widened when he saw Elle. He froze.
"Elle?" he said softly, filled with shock and disbelief. "What are you doing here?" His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of anger.
Elle couldn't respond right away. She could feel the weight of Darius's gaze—it wasn't loud, but it was piercing and cold. She knew that what she was about to say would shatter whatever was left of his respect and trust.
Elle's father stood and stepped forward.
"Darius, son… we know we have no right to speak, but we're here to ask for forgiveness. Especially our daughter. There's something you need to hear—straight from her."
Darius turned to Elle, and for the first time, his eyes dropped—not out of fear, but pain.
"Elle," he said in a low but firm voice, "go ahead. Say it."
Clutching her chest as though trying to contain the pain inside, Elle stepped forward. She sat down in front of them—the people who were once like a second family to her. And there, for what might be the last time, she took a deep breath and began to speak:
"You don't have to. Because I already know everything," Darius replied coldly. His words shocked even Elle, but they only deepened the confusion in his parents.
"What is this all about, son?" Mr. Alcaraz finally asked after the long silence.
Darius couldn't answer right away. He was quiet, as though trying to find the right words to explain what was really going on.
Everyone was watching him, waiting for him to speak. He didn't look at his wife again—he just sighed and finally spoke:
"Honestly, I don't know either. I had no idea Elle was doing something behind my back," he said firmly, looking straight at the parents of the woman who betrayed him—and at the woman who held a special place in his life, Angela.
"I only found out the night before my flight back here. A few days ago, I sent her a message telling her to talk to my lawyer regarding the divorce. I have nothing more to say to her. What she needs to focus on now is how to face what she did to Angela."
Elle's parents noticed a shift in Darius's expression, though they couldn't quite explain it—it passed quickly, replaced once again by his cold stare.
"What do you mean?"
"Who's Angela?" his parents asked at the same time, even more confused by what they were hearing.
"Just ask Elle. She's the one who can tell you what she did," Darius said, then walked out to the kitchen without another word.
The room fell into silence, but inside, it felt like a war zone. Darius's words were like knives—quiet, bloodless, but cutting deep.
He didn't cry. He didn't shout. But it felt like the ground swallowed him whole where he stood.
"Just ask Elle."
Darius's stare was heavy. His eyes distant, as if she were a stranger he no longer recognized. The husband, the ally, the protector—he was gone. All that was left was a man, wounded, cold, and closed off.
Elle lowered her head. She could feel her parents' eyes on her—a mix of shock, shame, and silent questioning. But she had no strength left to explain anything. There was no point. She couldn't undo what she had done.
"I don't even know why it crossed my mind. If there's anything I could do to undo the past, to make up for my mistakes, I'd do it. I was selfish."
In her mind, that day played over and over—the mistake. The embrace of a fleeting happiness, traded for everything she had shared with Darius.
It was wrong. And she knew no explanation would ever be enough. She didn't even know what she expected from this return. Forgiveness? Personal closure? Freedom?
Or maybe… one last look at the man she once loved—
Did she truly love Darius? Or was he just a temporary balm to her cold, empty life, because she never really stopped longing for the man she truly loved—Aries?