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TO YOU WHO NEVER LOVED ME

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TO YOU WHO NEVER LOVED ME

Behind the Curtain

Hi, I’m Lilly.

This is not a fairy tale.

There’s no glass slipper, no charming prince — only silk threads, camera flashes, and names that don’t belong to me.

I was born into a family everyone knew, yet no one recognized me.

My father, Mr. Athan, was the chairman of Pick and Drop — PD — the iconic clothing empire with a trillion-dollar turnover. The world saw him as powerful, elegant, unreachable.

To me, he was… just “father.”

Distant. Formal. Always working.

My real mother, Lia, loved him deeply. She was the kind of woman who believed in love more than comfort. She ran away from her wealthy home just to be with him — a man who had nothing but dreams stitched in his pockets.

They said I looked just like her.

But I barely remember her face.

She died when I was three.

And with her, every trace of warmth in our house disappeared.

The only person who truly loved me… was my grandfather — my mother’s father.

Despite the pain of losing his daughter, he never blamed me. He raised me like a flower in the countryside whenever I could escape the coldness of the city. His hugs smelled of old wood, ink, and peace.

Even now, I write to him more than anyone.

Years passed.

Father remarried. Her name was Leya, once a graceful actress, now the polished face behind PD’s global marketing. She was five years younger than him — always charming in public, always distant at home.

And then came Rulia.

My stepsister.

The nation’s white flower.

A soloist with a voice soft enough to make the world cry and a face so perfect, people said she was made for heaven.

She was PD’s only daughter — according to the media, the magazines, and even the official website.

Not me.

They didn’t know that I, Lilly, designed the very dresses Rulia wore on every red carpet.

They didn’t know the fabric she draped herself in came from my sketches, my sleepless nights, my silent pride.

But I never complained.

Not once.

Because in a house where the walls spoke in money, fame, and flashbulbs — I learned how to stay quiet…

…and create.

But life doesn't always reward silence.

I had a childhood crush once.

He used to pull my braids, call me "matchstick," and buy me candy after pretending not to know my name.

Natha Elyas Odell.

Neo.

The boy who became a global idol.

The heir of the O’Dell Empire — a business three times bigger than my father's.

Everyone loved him.

And I did, too.

But he never saw me.

His eyes only followed one person: Rulia.

They dated for three years. They were the couple — glamorous, perfect, always trending. I watched from the sidelines like a fan in my own home.

Then everything changed…

...one scandal, one hotel room, one photo.

He found Rulia with a businessman — the kind that wore suits worth more than most houses.

And the next day…

he married me.

No proposal. No smiles. No flowers.

Just silence and a ring that didn’t fit.

The marriage was never announced. Never accepted.

To the world, he was still single — mourning a public breakup.

To me, he was a stranger sharing my last name in a house full of cold silence.

I told myself it was okay. That he’d see me. That maybe, just maybe, he’d remember the girl who used to follow him around with wide eyes and a sketchbook full of hearts.

But reality wasn’t so kind.

The very next day, the storm hit.

Rulia, Leya, even some of the Odells — they staged it like a drama.

They cried, shouted, accused.

Said I drugged Rulia. That I planned it all. That I used Neo’s pain to trap him.

And he…

said nothing.

His silence tore deeper than any scream.

From that day, no one in the O'Dell family spoke to me.

Not my husband.

Not his parents.

Not even the staff.