LOGINFor five years, I played the ghost in my own marriage. I pressed Julian Daniel’s pristine suits, matched his cufflinks, and sat by the window like a loyal dog, waiting for the "Ice King" CEO to look at me with something resembling desire. Instead, I received clinical kindness and a box containing a gold watch. Every anniversary, the exact same script. It was his way of checking a box - a tax he paid for a life he felt obligated to support. I sacrificed my career as a prima ballerina, shattering my legs to push him out of the path of a speeding car. He didn't marry a wife; he locked away a debt. The anniversary script burned to ash on our fifth year. Standing outside the bathroom door, I heard the raw, unbridled passion Julian had denied me for half a decade. He wasn't breathing my name into the steam. He was choking out the name of his high school heartbreak: Penelope. The betrayal didn't end in our bedroom. It followed me to a high-end restaurant where Julian hosted a private lunch. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, I didn't find a husband willing to defend his wife. I found his childhood friend dragging his foot in a cruel, mocking circle, mimicking my limp to a room erupting in roars of laughter. Penelope doubled over in delight. And Julian? He sat at the head of the table, watching my humiliation with a look of pure, unbothered boredom. “I owe her,” his voice cut through the fading laughter, calm and tired. “I am just trying to pay back a debt.”
View MorePOV : Hazel"Is that actually the wife, or did you just pick up a stray at the gate?" Michael’s voice boomed through the heavy oak doors of the private lounge.The roar of laughter that followed hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen in the doorway, my fingers still gripping the cold brass handle. Inside, the room was a blur of expensive cologne, amber liquor, and people who moved with a confidence I never possessed.Right in the center of the noise sat Julian. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't stopping them either. He just sat there, nursing a drink, while Penelope leaned so close to him that her silk dress brushed his suit jacket. She looked like she belonged there. I looked like a mistake.Michael turned around, his face flushed from the booze and the joke. "Hey, Juli, is it really true that she - "His words died in his throat. His eyes locked onto mine, and the grin slid off his face so fast it was
POV :Hazel“You should just stay in the house if I am not there to look after you,” Julian told me this morning.He said it like he was protecting me. He made it sound like the world was a jagged, dangerous place and I was too fragile to navigate it alone. I used to believe him. I used to think his control was just a form of deep affection.But as I sat in the back of the taxi, watching the city lights blur past the window, I knew the truth. I did not fear the world. I feared being seen with him. I hated the way people looked at us when we walked together. I could see the question in their eyes before they even opened their mouths. They wondered how a man like Julian, so polished and perfect, ended up with a wife who could not even walk straight.“Driver, please stop here,” I said suddenly.The car jerked to a halt. My heart skipped a beat. I had spotted Julian’s black sedan parked right at the curb in front of a high-
POV: Hazel“Is he actually shouting?” I whispered to the empty bedroom, my thumb hovering over the replay button on my phone.The video was grainy, but the audio was sharp enough to cut. Julian was laughing. It was a loud, boisterous sound that I didn't recognize. In the blurry footage, he raised a glass high, his face flushed with a warmth he never showed me.“Welcome home, Penelope!” he yelled.I leaned back against the headboard, feeling a cold ache in my chest. I remembered Julian from our high school days as the untouchable genius. He was always the guy who looked straight ahead, ignoring the girls who tried to get his attention or offer him water after a race. He was composed. He was icy.When we got married, that ice didn't melt. He was polite, sure. He was perfectly regulated. He never lost his temper, but he never found his joy either. I used to wonder if his blood was even warm. When our hands b
POV: Hazel"I'm heading out, and I have a dinner meeting later tonight," Julian said to someone in the hallway. "Let Mrs. Lucy know she shouldn't wait for me. She needs her sleep."I kept my eyes squeezed shut, listening to the heavy thud of his footsteps as he walked back into our bedroom. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I stayed tucked under the duvet, my face pressed into a pillow that was still damp from the tears I’d shed in the dark. My skin felt tight and itchy from the salt, but I didn't dare wipe it away. I couldn't let him see I was awake.Usually, our mornings followed a strict routine. I would be up before him, selecting his silk tie and matching his cufflinks to his suit. I’d have his clothes laid out on the bench, perfectly pressed, so he never had to spend a single second thinking about his appearance. It was my way of being useful. It was how I showed him I cared, even if he never said it back.T












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