Zara POV
"You look ridiculous."
I froze halfway through applying my lipstick, Jason's reflection appearing behind mine in the bathroom mirror. My hand trembled slightly, smudging the corner of my mouth.
"I just thought, since it's our anniversary.."
"Five years, Zara. Five years of this." He gestured vaguely at me, his face twisted in that familiar expression of disgust I'd learned to recognize in the dark. "You think a red dress is going to fix us?"
The dress had cost me three months of saved grocery money. I'd hidden it in the back of my closet for two weeks, hoping tonight would be different. Hoping he'd look at me the way he used to, before the criticism became as routine as morning coffee.
"I made reservations at Marcello's," I said quietly, capping the lipstick with shaking fingers. "Seven o'clock. Your favorite."
Jason's laugh was sharp and cold. "I have plans."
"But it's our anniversary."
"God, you're so needy." He turned away, already pulling out his phone. "It's pathetic, honestly. Do you hear yourself?"
I watched him leave, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floors of our bedroom. Our bedroom. What a joke. He'd been sleeping in the guest room for eight months now. Said my breathing kept him awake.
The woman in the mirror stared back at me with hollow eyes. When had I become this person? This ghost who apologized for existing, who spent hours choosing the perfect outfit just to be called ridiculous, who stayed up late cooking meals that went uneaten and unappreciated?
My phone buzzed. Tessa.
Girl, where are you? I'm at the spa waiting!
I'd forgotten. Again. Tessa had been my best friend since college, the one person who still called, still tried. I quickly typed back an apology, making up some excuse about Jason needing me. The lies came so easily now.
You cancel on me every time. He's got you on such a tight leash. Come out tonight at least? Please?
Can't. Anniversary dinner.
He's actually taking you out? Miracles do happen.
I didn't correct her. Didn't tell her there was no dinner, no celebration, no acknowledgment that five years ago I'd promised forever to a man who now couldn't stand to look at me.
The house felt enormous and empty as I walked downstairs, my heels clicking against marble that always seemed too cold. Photos lined the hallway, capturing a timeline of our relationship. My smile grew smaller in each one, while Jason's grew more distant. In the last photo, taken at his company's holiday party, his arm wasn't even around me. We stood inches apart, two strangers forced into the same frame.
I'd given up so much for this marriage. My job, my friends, my own apartment downtown that I'd loved. Jason said a wife's place was at home, supporting her husband. Building his empire. I'd believed him, believed in us, believed that love meant sacrifice.
But what had he sacrificed? Nothing. While I'd made myself smaller and quieter, he'd grown larger and louder, his success built on my silence. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed six. I made a decision.
I would go to Marcello's anyway. Wait at our table. Maybe he'd remember, maybe he'd feel guilty and show up. Maybe tonight could still be salvaged.
I grabbed my purse and keys, leaving a note on the kitchen counter just in case. The rain had started, fat drops splattering against the windows as I drove through the city. Thunder rumbled in the distance, matching the nervous pounding of my heart.
Marcello's was warm and dimly lit, filled with couples holding hands across candlelit tables. The hostess gave me a pitying look when I said I was waiting for someone. One hour passed. Then two.
My phone stayed silent. The waiter kept refilling my water glass, his sympathy growing more obvious with each visit. Other diners whispered and glanced my way. The woman in red, eating bread alone on her anniversary.
At nine o'clock, I couldn't take it anymore. I paid for the wine I'd nervously sipped and drove home through sheets of rain, mascara running down my cheeks, that stupid expensive dress clinging to my skin.
Maybe I'd surprise him. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. Maybe.. The house was dark except for a light upstairs. Our bedroom.
Hope flickered weakly in my chest as I climbed the stairs, already forming the words. I waited for you. I thought we could still talk. Please, Jason, can we just talk?
I pushed open the bedroom door.Time stopped. Jason was in our bed. But he wasn't alone.
Tessa.
My best friend Tessa, her red hair spread across my pillows, her skin pale against our sheets. Jason's hands on her body, their mouths locked together, their clothes scattered across the floor I'd vacuumed that morning.
The sound that came out of me wasn't human. It was raw and broken, something torn from deep inside my chest. They broke apart. Jason didn't even look guilty. He looked annoyed.
"Zara. You're home early."
"How could you?" The words barely made it past my lips. "How could both of you?"
Tessa sat up, pulling the sheet around herself with a casual shrug. "Oh honey. Did you really think he loved you? Look at yourself."
"Tessa, don't," Jason said, but his voice held no real conviction.
"No, she needs to hear this." Tessa's eyes glittered with something ugly. "You're so weak, Zara. Always have been. Always whining, always needy, always playing the victim. Jason's a man who needs strength. Passion. Things you've never been able to give him."
"I'm your wife," I whispered, staring at Jason. "I've given you everything."
"That's the problem." Jason stood, not bothering to cover himself. "You gave everything and became nothing. Do you know how exhausting it is, living with someone who has no spine? No life of their own? You suffocate me, Zara."
"I changed everything for you!"
"Nobody asked you to!" His voice rose, and I flinched. "You made yourself miserable and blamed me for it. You pushed me away with your constant depression and neediness. What was I supposed to do?"
"Not this," I choked out. "Anything but this."
"It's not like this just started," Tessa added, examining her nails. "We've been together for months. Face it, Zara. You're just not enough."
The room spun. Months. They'd been doing this for months while I'd been trying so hard to save us, to be better, to be worthy of love.
I ran.
Down the stairs, through the foyer, out into the rain that was now coming down in torrents. Thunder cracked overhead. Lightning illuminated the long driveway leading away from the mansion Jason had bought with his family's money, the house that had never felt like home.
I couldn't breathe. My lungs wouldn't work. The corset I'd worn under the dress was too tight, everything was too tight, I needed air, I needed..
I stumbled back inside through a side entrance, into the guest wing I rarely visited. My vision was blurring, black spots dancing at the edges. I needed to sit down. Needed to think. Needed to stop the world from spinning.
A door stood slightly ajar, spilling warm light into the hallway. I pushed it open and fell inside. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. The scent of expensive cologne and something woodsy filled my senses. A man's voice, deep and concerned, saying words I couldn't quite hear over the roaring in my ears.
I looked up through my tears and saw Jason's face. Except it wasn't quite right. Sharper. Harder. Different.
"Jason?" I whispered.
"Shh. You're okay. I've got you."
His arms tightened around me, solid and warm, and I let myself break. Let five years of holding it together finally shatter. Somewhere in the blur of tears and rain and heartbreak, I felt him lift me, carry me, his voice a low murmur of comfort I couldn't understand but desperately needed.
The last thing I remembered was the softness of a bed beneath me and the weight of another person close by, an anchor in the storm.
Then everything went dark. I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows. My head pounded. My mouth tasted like wine and regret. The sheets beneath me were soft, expensive, not mine.
I sat up slowly, and the room tilted. Where was I? Then I saw him. A man asleep in the chair by the window, his long legs stretched out, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He was beautiful in a way Jason had never been, all sharp angles and controlled power even in sleep.
And he was definitely, absolutely, not my husband. My heart stopped as pieces of the night before came flooding back. The rain. The stranger's arms. The bed. Oh God. What had I done?