The rain fell softly against the tall windows of the Reed estate, each drop echoing the heaviness in my chest. I sat at the grand dining table, my fingers trembling as I adjusted the silver cutlery I had set hours ago. Dinner was growing cold, the candles had burned low, and still—he had not come.
Alexander Reed. My husband. My everything.
I whispered his name under my breath like a prayer, though I knew it would not summon him to me. It never did. For three years of our marriage, I had waited like this—night after night—hoping for even the smallest sign that he remembered I existed.
The sound of the door unlocking jolted me. My heart leapt, foolishly, pathetically, as though this time would be different. I rose to my feet, smoothing down the silk dress I had chosen so carefully, just for him.
The tall figure entered, his coat still damp from the rain, his hair tousled in that careless way that made women turn their heads. His eyes—cold, sharp, unreadable—swept over me, not with warmth, but with the same indifference one might give a stranger.
"Alex," I breathed, my voice softer than the storm outside. "You're home. I kept dinner—"
"I already ate," he cut in, his tone flat, dismissive. He brushed past me, heading straight for the stairs.
The words sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. Already eaten. Already chosen elsewhere. I stood frozen, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress, trying to anchor myself against the familiar ache.
"Was it… with Vanessa again?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice trembled, not with anger, but with the desperate need for truth—even if the truth destroyed me.
That was when he stopped. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression sharp with irritation. "Don't say her name like you have the right to."
The breath caught in my throat. The walls seemed to close in on me. I had no right? I was his wife. And yet, in his eyes, I was nothing more than a shadow standing in the way of the woman he truly loved.
"I'm your wife, Alex," I whispered, my lips quivering. "Don't I deserve at least that respect?"
For a long moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the sound of the rain. And then he spoke words that shattered the last fragile piece of my heart.
"You were never my choice, Emily. You were a mistake forced on me, and I'll never forgive you for it."
The world tilted. My vision blurred. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint crackle of thunder. But inside, everything went silent.
A mistake. That was all I was to him.
I pressed a hand to my chest, as if I could hold together the shards of my breaking heart. The man I had loved for years, the man I had sacrificed everything for, had forsaken me completely.
And in that moment, standing in the emptiness of our marriage, I realized I could no longer beg for scraps of affection. Tonight was the night I would walk away.