Sophie curled on the bed, the sheets soaked from nights of silent tears. Her pillow muffled the sobs she couldn't contain, the ache in her chest growing heavier with each day. No matter how many times she told herself she was doing the right thing, her heart betrayed her. It still longed for Alexander.
She had deleted his messages. Ignored his calls. But she couldn't forget the way his eyes pleaded at her mother's doorstep. That image haunted her more than the betrayal itself.
One afternoon, as she sat quietly by the window, her mother walked in, arms crossed, her expression stern and unsympathetic.
I warned you, her mother said coldly. I told you to protect your marriage. But instead of protecting your home, you allowed the other woman to kick you out.
Sophie didn't respond. She just blinked back another wave of tears, her throat tightening.
Her mother stepped closer, voice rising. You're not even married up to a year and look what's happened! Another woman walks into your life and now she's his wife.
Sophie's fists clenched at her sides. The shame, the anger, the hurt—it all boiled inside her. And finally, she snapped.
She's not his wife, she hissed, her voice raw. It's fake. All of it.
Her mother narrowed her eyes. What do you mean?
Sophie stood slowly, her hands trembling. That marriage between Alexander and Isabella… it's just a fake marriage..
Silence fell between them.
Sophie swallowed hard, pain thick in her voice. we both plan it together. It not real. She and her father manipulated him using their influence in the company...
Her mother's lips parted, stunned. The anger faded from her face, replaced by something closer to uncertainty.
She turned away, tears sliding down her cheeks again. But now I'm the one paying the price for my own ideas.
Her mother sighed, sitting slowly on the bed behind her. Then why do you still cry for him, Sophie?
Sophie looked out the window again, her voice cracking. I never stopped loving him. And that's the part that hurts the most.
Alexander sat in the dim silence of his office, though he hadn't worked in days. The curtains were drawn, his tie hung loose around his neck, and the untouched coffee on his desk had long gone cold. His once sharp features were now sunken with guilt, and his eyes—those proud, commanding eyes—were red-rimmed and empty.
He stared at his phone screen, hovering over Sophie's contact once again.
A soft knock came at the door.
It was Ethan, Sophie friend and colleague who stepped inside carefully, holding a tablet in his hand. Sir, I think you need to see this.
Alexander barely looked up. If it's about the meeting, cancel it.
It's not, Ethan said, setting the tablet down before him and hitting play.
The screen lit up with footage—grainy but clear. Sophie, standing outside her mother's house, was speaking to someone—a family friend who didn't know they were being recorded. Her voice cracked with pain.
I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because he broke me. After I lost my pregnancy, I needed him, I needed my husband..but he chose her again. He always chooses her.
A sob slipped from her lips in the video. And still.. I wake up thinking of him.
Alexander froze.
His heart shattered into a thousand unspoken regrets. The room spun, his breathing hitched. This wasn't just heartbreak—this was devastation, and he had caused it.
He grabbed the tablet, replaying the clip, each word slicing deeper than the last. His grip tightened, and for the first time in days, fire sparked behind his dull eyes.
Who recorded this? he demanded, standing suddenly.
A neighbor, I think. It went around a private group—got forwarded to me.
Alexander ran a hand through his hair, pacing. She's hurting this much... and I'm here doing nothing?
His voice dropped to a whisper. I have to fix this. I will fix this.
The mansion was quiet, too quiet for midday. Alexander's steps echoed through the marble hallway like thunder. His jaw was clenched, his fists balled tightly at his sides. Isabella sat on the velvet chaise in the lounge, dressed in silk, her hair cascading in perfect waves—playing the role of the graceful wife. A glass of orange juice rested in her manicured hand.
She looked up, surprised by the storm in his eyes.
Alexander? she said sweetly, sitting straighter. Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you. The baby's been.
Don't, he said sharply, his voice low and cold. Don't say a word about that baby right now.
Her smile faltered.
You lied to me, he continued, stepping closer. Manipulated me. You watched Sophie walk out of this house shattered, and you smiled. You smiled, Isabella!
Isabella stood, lips parting in mock confusion. Alexander, I'm your wife. She walked out because she couldn't handle reality. You have two wives
Isabella's voice rose, trembling with desperation. You slept with me! That meant something! You can't just erase me!
He stepped in, close enough for her to see the fury in his eyes. What happened between us was a mistake. One I will regret for the rest of my life. But Sophie, she was my heart, my home. And now she's in pieces because of what we did.
Isabella's eyes welled up, but she was unmoved. And what's wrong with wanting the man I love? she snapped.
The rain poured steadily as Alexander stood outside Sophie's mother's house, soaked to the bone but unmoving. In his hands, he held a bouquet of Sophie's favorite lilies, and a small velvet box, the same one he had used to propose to her months ago, but now it was something new: a hand written letter, pages long.
Sophie peeked through the curtains, her eyes widening when she saw him. Her heart skipped a beat—anger and pain still lingered, but so did the memories.
Her mother frowned from the sofa. Don't even think about it.
I'm not, Sophie whispered, though she wasn't so sure herself.
Outside, Alexander knelt. In the mud. In the cold. In front of the world.
I'm not moving, he called out, loud enough for her to hear. Until you talk to me. Even if it takes all night, I'll wait here. Sophie, I'm sorry. For everything.
He remained there for hours, drawing a small crowd of curious neighbors. Sophie's chest tightened as she watched him. Her mother said, is this what you want ? Drama?
No, Sophie whispered. I wanted a man who would fight for me.
the next day Alexander returned again, This time, he brought her favorite meal from the small restaurant where they had their first date. And a guitarist. is a note that simply read: You're still my forever, Sophie.
Each day he returned with something new—a memory, a moment, a symbol of their love. And slowly, cracks formed in the wall around Sophie's heart.
But across town, Isabella watched everything unfold from her phone screen, rage building like a storm inside her.
He's humiliating me, she hissed to herself, throwing a glass against the wall. After all I did.
In the days that followed, Alexander's efforts intensified—flowers, charity donations in Sophie's name, He even publicly admitted his mistakes during a corporate press conference, saying, The best thing I ever had, I broke. And now, I'll spend my life trying to fix it.
But Isabella was already planting seeds—rumors, threats, false legal documents, and reporters sniffing around. Her goal was clear, if she couldn't have Alexander, then neither could Sophie.