Chapter 1: Three Years After

December had just begun, and the air was colder than ever. The chill seeped through the walls, making the house feel emptier than usual.

Lara sat curled up on the sofa, her laptop balanced on her lap as she worked on her lesson plans. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, but her eyes kept drifting toward the wall clock.

8:15 PM.

Lucas should have been home by now.

He usually arrived by eight, but lately, his schedule had become unpredictable. Some nights, he came home late. Other nights, not at all. She told herself not to overthink it—he was a busy man, after all. But deep down, worry gnawed at her, mingling with frustration. They barely saw each other as it was. And now, even the little time they had under the same roof was slipping away.

It was ironic, really. They were married, yet they lived like strangers.

She let out a sigh, trying to shake off the unease settling in her chest. Was he doing this on purpose? Avoiding her at all costs? Did he truly hate her that much?

Lara bit her lower lip, forcing back the sting of tears. She had no right to be upset. She had chosen this path. She had known what she was getting into.

With a deep sigh, she forced herself to focus on her laptop. But before she could type another word, the familiar sound of tires screeching against the pavement caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat.

She rushed to the window and peeked through the curtains.

A sleek black Maybach had pulled up in front of the house. A moment later, the driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a tall man in a tailored suit.

Lucas.

Even after all these years, he still took her breath away. His striking features, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and effortless grace stood out even under the dim glow of the streetlights. He looked like someone straight out of a magazine—perfect and untouchable.

And completely indifferent to her existence.

Lucas stood beside the car for a moment, adjusting his cufflinks. As if sensing her gaze, his cold, piercing gaze lifted to meet hers through the window where she stood.

Lara froze, her breath hitching. His gaze was as emotionless as ever, carrying the same chilling indifference she had grown used to. And yet, it still hurt.

Shaking off her disappointment, she hurried to the front door, opening it just as he reached the entrance.

“Honey, welcome home,” she greeted softly, forcing a smile.

Lucas barely spared her a glance before brushing past her.

Her smile faltered slightly, but she refused to let it drop. “Are you hungry? I made dinner—”

“Shut it,” he cut her off, his voice laced with exhaustion and irritation. “I'm dead tired, Lara. I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now.”

She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers. “But I cooked...” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Lucas scoffed. “Did I ask you to?”

Lara swallowed, clenching her fingers together. “I just thought—”

“I already ate.” His tone was sharp, dismissive. “Now, move the fuck out of my way. I’m already pissed that I have to come home to this house and see your face every damn day. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t bother coming here at all.”

His voice was laced with irritation as he brushed past her, heading straight for the stairs.

Lara stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides as she watched his retreating figure. The coldness in his voice, the utter disregard—it wasn’t new. But no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt.

Swallowing down the pain, and forced herself to move. Mechanically, she walked toward the dining table, staring at the untouched dishes she had prepared with so much hope.

“I guess I’m eating alone again,” she whispered.

The meal was silent and tasteless. She wasn’t even sure if she was full or just forcing herself to eat.

Once she finished, she cleaned up, then returned to the living room to continue her lesson plans. But no matter how much she tried to concentrate, her mind kept drifting back to Lucas.

Three years.

Three long years since she and Lucas got married. And in all those years, nothing had changed.

No, that wasn’t true. Things had changed. They had gotten worse.

Their marriage was an empty shell—two people bound by paper, living under the same roof but in entirely different worlds. It was a cruel joke—a one-sided love story where she was the only fool still clinging to hope.

Lucas had never treated her right.

He never raised a hand against her, but his coldness was a different kind of torment. His words, his actions—everything was designed to push her away, to break her. And he had succeeded, countless times.

And yet, she stayed.

Why?

Was it love? Or just an unhealthy obsession?

She knew how twisted it was to keep him trapped in a marriage he never wanted. She knew it was foolish. She knew she was only hurting herself. But if staying meant being close to him, she was willing to be selfish.

If love meant letting him go, then maybe… she wasn’t ready to love him the right way.

She could endure the coldness. The silence. The indifference.

But annulment?

No. That was the one thing she couldn’t do. She wasn’t ready to let him go.

Even if it was wrong, even if it made her selfish—she would rather be hated by him than not have him at all.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

Enough.

Crying wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make Lucas love her. It wouldn’t warm the coldness between them.

She let out a deep sigh and packed away her things. There was no use pretending she could still work. She had lost all focus. Sleep was a far better option than dwelling on thoughts that only hurt her.

On her way upstairs, she paused in front of Lucas’s bedroom door.

Yes, his bedroom.

They had never shared a bed—not even on their honeymoon. From the very beginning, Lucas had refused to sleep in the same room as her.

Even now, after three years of marriage, that hadn’t changed.

The door was slightly ajar, and for a brief moment, she felt the urge to peek inside.

But she stopped herself.

She couldn't risk being caught.

Instead, she whispered, “Good night,” before turning away and heading to her own room.

...

The next morning. Lara woke up early, as always, and went through her usual routine. After a warm shower, she made her way downstairs to prepare breakfast.

To her surprise, Lucas was already in the kitchen.

She paused at the sight of him standing by the coffee machine, his broad frame dressed in an expensive black suit, his head slightly tilted down as he watched the coffee machine fill his cup.

He looked effortlessly handsome. Too perfect. No matter how many times she saw him like this, she still couldn’t get used to it.

Lara swallowed the lump in her throat and approached him carefully.

“Good morning,” she greeted softly, mustering a smile.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even glance at her.

She refused to let it bother her. “What would you like for breakfast, honey? I’ll prepare it right away.”

“Don’t bother,” he replied, lifting his cup and walking toward the dining table.

Lara paused. A pang of hurt twisted in her chest, but she forced herself to smile. “Alright. If you say so,” she said softly.

She turned away and busied herself with cooking, refusing to let his indifference ruin her morning.

By the time she finished preparing breakfast, Lucas was already gone.

Only his empty coffee mug remained on the counter.

No goodbye. No acknowledgment.

Lara sighed, staring at the abandoned mug.

Would it kill him to say something?

She shook her head and sat down for breakfast.

After finishing her meal, she washed the dishes and went upstairs to get ready for work.

She curled her hair into loose waves, applied light makeup, and grabbed her bag before heading to the garage.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the car.

Another day had begun.

Another day of pretending everything was fine.

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