Chapter 1 - The Wife He Never Loved

The dining table looked beautiful. Too beautiful for something so cold that is about to happen.

Soft candlelight flickered against the crystal glasses Clara had spent nearly thirty minutes polishing herself. The silverware sat perfectly aligned beside the plates, the napkins folded neatly like something out of a luxury hotels. A small bouquet of sunflower rested at the center of the table, it is Sebastian’s favorite flowers. Or at least, she thought they were.

Clara stood quietly in the kitchen doorway, staring at everything she prepared for their third wedding anniversary. Three years of memorizing the things he liked. Three years of learning silently.

The clock on the wall ticked past eight thirty. Yet still wasn’t home. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cardigan before she finally looked away. The food was getting cold again. She walked toward the stove, reheating the soup for the second time tonight.

Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows of the mansion. The city lights blurred behind the glass. It was beautiful too but too lonely as Clara.

Her phone lit up on the counter.

Basty 🩵

Running late. Don’t wait for me.

Clara stared at the message for a long moment. No apology. No “happy anniversary.” Just that message he sent. Something inside her chest sank quietly, like it always did.

She typed "Okay." Then deleted it. Typed "Drive safely!! ❣️" Deleted that too. In the end, she only sent, "It's okay, I understand :))"

The moment the message delivered, she hated herself for it. Because she always understood Sebastian, she always adjusted, and waited.

Clara lowered her phone and forced herself to breathe normally. She reached for the cabinet to grab another plate, but her movements slowed when she caught her reflection in the glass.

Sebastian once told her she looked elegant in pale colors, so nearly her entire wardrobe had become cream, white, and soft beige over the years. Tonight’s dress was ivory silk. Her hair curled carefully against her shoulders.

Everything about her was chosen to be easy to love. So why did she still feel impossible to choose? The front door finally opened at almost nine fifteen. Clara straightened immediately.

Sebastian stepped inside, exhaustion written all over his face. Raindrops clung to his dark coat, his tie loosened slightly beneath the collar of his shirt. He looked handsome in the effortless way rich men in dramas always did.

But he also looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. His eyes landed on the candles, then the food and finally on her.

For a brief second, guilt crossed his expression. “...I forgot.” The words were quiet as well the atmosphere at that moment, but they still hurt.

Clara smiled anyway. “It’s okay.” But it's actually written in her face that it's not okay at all. Sebastian exhaled heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. “There was a meeting with investors. My phone kept dying.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated softly. “You should eat first.” The room fell silent again. She watched him remove his coat while trying not to notice what was missing. No flowers, gift nor warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Just politeness.

Like she was someone he respected, but never truly loved. They sat across from each other at the long dining table. The candles flickered between them.

Sebastian ate quietly while checking emails on his phone every few minutes. Clara tried speaking twice. “The rain got stronger earlier.”

“Mhm.”

“I heard your mother called this afternoon.” Another distracted hum.

Eventually, she stopped trying. The sound of utensils against plates became unbearable. Clara lowered her gaze to her untouched food. “Sebastian.” This time, he looked up.

Her heart ached a little because she almost forgot what his full attention felt like. “Do you…” She swallowed carefully. “Do you think we’re happy?” The question lingered heavily in the air.

Sebastian froze. Not because he didn’t hear her. Because he didn’t know how to answer. And somehow… That hurt more. His eyes softened slightly, guilt appearing again. “Clara...”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted quickly, forcing a smile too fast to be real. “Forget that I asked.” She shouldn’t have said anything. She already knew the answer, their marriage was for convenience and company anyway.

Happy couple didn’t feel nervous sitting beside the person they married. Happy couple didn’t rehearse conversations in their heads before speaking. Happy couple didn’t spend anniversaries wondering if they were simply filling an empty space left behind by someone else.

Sebastian set his fork down quietly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” There it was. The sentence she hated most. Not I love you, not I’m happy with you, but just "You’ve done nothing wrong."

As if their marriage was a problem no one knew how to solve. Clara looked down before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. For what, she didn’t know.

Another silence.

Then Sebastian’s phone lit up beside his plate. A name flashed across the screen. His expression changed instantly, not enough for anyone else to notice.

But Clara did. Because she had spent three years learning every version of his face. His eyes softened. His shoulders loosened. And for the first time that night… Sebastian smiled.

Clara’s chest tightened painfully. “Are you going to answer it?” she asked quietly. Sebastian looked at the screen for one second, too long before turning the phone face down. “No,” he said.

But the damage was already done. Because for a brief moment, he had looked alive. And Clara realized with horrifying clarity… He had never once looked at her that way.

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