Darius stood with his mouth agape, looking at her as if she were a ghost.
Then he swallowed and ran a hand over his face.
“Did you… did you do that on purpose?”
Kiana sipped her tea.
“Of course I did it on purpose. Did you think I didn’t hear your conversation with your mother in the kitchen about getting the PIN and withdrawing the money?”
He backed away as if she had struck him.
“I… we… It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?”
Kiana smiled sadly.
“Darius, I heard every single word. Your brilliant plan to steal my money, split it fifty‑fifty, and blame it on scammers. Clever plan. I’ll give you that.”
He tried to say something, but his voice broke.
“Kiki, Mom came up with it. I was against it, honestly. She just pressured me, saying she had nothing to live on, saying you were greedy—”
“Stop.”
Kiana raised her hand.
“Don’t try to pin everything on your mother. You agreed to it. You just dictated the PIN to her half an hour ago. I heard everything, so don’t lie.”
Darius slumped into a chair, burying his head in his hands.
“God, what’s going to happen now? What’s going to happen now?”
Kiana finished her tea and put the mug in the sink.
“Now your mother is sitting at the bank explaining to the security service why she was trying to withdraw over a hundred thousand dollars from someone else’s card. They might transfer the case to the police if they want to. It depends on whether I file a report.”
He looked up quickly.
“You won’t file one. Please don’t. That’s my mom. They’ll arrest her.”
Kiana looked at him for a long, scrutinizing moment.
There he sat, pathetic and scared, begging for mercy for his mom—the same person who had tried to clean out his wife an hour earlier.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Darius jumped up and stepped toward her.
“Kiki, please understand. This was just a stupid mistake. We didn’t want to hurt you. We just needed the money.”
“Money is always needed,” she interrupted. “But normal people earn it. They don’t steal it from their wives.”
He fell silent, standing with his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his face etched with complete despair.
Somewhere deep down, Kiana felt a faint pang of pity—but it was just that.
A faint, very faint pang.
“Go to bed,” she said tiredly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes, in the morning. I’ll tell you what I’ve decided. For now, go.”
Darius nodded, stunned, and shuffled off to the bedroom.
Kiana remained standing in the kitchen, looking out the window.
Dawn was breaking outside, the gray pre‑dawn sky slowly pushing back the darkness.
The city was waking up slowly, reluctantly.
Darius’s phone vibrated again in the hallway.
Kiana walked out and picked it up from the floor.
Another message from Ms. Sterling.
Darius, they’re questioning me. They’re saying this is attempted felony theft. What should I do?
Kiana smirked and put the phone back down.
Let Darius deal with his mother himself.
She had played her part.
She returned to the kitchen and sat by the window.
Streetlights were still on, even though the sky was already light.
A few pedestrians hurried about their business.
A truck rumbled in the distance.
An ordinary morning.
Only for her, this day was a turning point.
Kiana pulled her phone from her robe pocket and texted her friend Shauna.
Hey, can I come over today? I need to talk.
The reply came almost instantly.
Of course. What happened?
I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ll be over around ten.
Kiana put her phone away and leaned back in her chair.
Inside, she was calm.
Not happy, not sad—just calm, like after a long illness, when the crisis has passed and all that remains is to wait for recovery.
She had lived with Darius for five years.
Five years of hope, habit, and compromise.
Five years of the illusion that everything would somehow work out.
But now the illusions were gone.
Only facts remained.
Fact one: her husband and his mother had planned to steal her money.
Fact two: they didn’t feel a shred of remorse.
Fact three: that meant it was over.
Kiana stood up and walked to the window.
The sky outside the glass had completely brightened, tinged with pale pink.
A beautiful sunrise.
Too bad it followed such a vile night.
Something crashed in the bedroom.
Darius apparently couldn’t sleep and was tossing and turning.
Kiana listened closely.
Then muffled sobs reached her.
He was crying.
She scoffed quietly.
Self‑pity.
That was all he was capable of.
Not pity for her or for their broken marriage, but for himself.
Kiana returned to the kitchen and began packing a bag.
Documents, keys, phone, charger—all the essentials.
She wouldn’t be staying with Shauna for long, maybe three days, until she figured out her next move.
The apartment was hers, purchased before the marriage with her grandmother’s money, so she wouldn’t have to fight for it.
He would leave on his own, or his mother would take him.
They would see.
Around eight, she heard the alarm clock ring in the bedroom.
Darius got up and went to the bathroom.
Water ran from the tap.
Kiana sat in the kitchen drinking her second cup of tea and looking out the window.
Darius came out about twenty minutes later, dressed but rumpled, with red eyes and a drawn face.
He sat down opposite her and poured himself coffee from the French press she had made.
“Kiki,” he began quietly, “I messed up. I know. Please forgive me. Please.”
She remained silent.
“It was a mistake. A terrible, idiotic mistake. Mom talked me into it. I wasn’t thinking, but I never wanted to betray you.”
“Honestly, Darius,” she cut him off calmly, “you dictated the PIN to your mother and told her to take all my money. That is the definition of betrayal. The real thing.”
He gripped the mug with both hands, staring into the darkness of the coffee.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably file for divorce.”
