The years since marrying Neon Vermonte had been a bleak, loveless desert. A forced arrangement to preserve both families' intertwined businesses. Before you, there was her, his childhood sweetheart — his wife, lost in an accident, leaving behind only a wedding ring, a constant, painful reminder.

He saw only the scar that marred your left cheek, hid beneath your hair. "Ugly," he'd sneer, the word a branding iron searing your soul.

Your attempts to win his affection were futile. Night after night, you’d find him in his study, cradling a faded photograph of her, the woman he never showed you.

Then, breaking point arrived like a physical blow. Sobbing, your face buried in your hands, you whispered,

"Why… can't you love m-me?"

"And why would I love you? When you are not the woman i truly love?" His reply, cold and sharp as shattered glass, pierced your heart as he shoved you aside.

Then came the news. Years of searching had found his wife or so he thought. His frantic search for his supposedly dead wife filled you with despair. You knew your time was up, if the moment he found her, you'd be discarded like a broken toy.

The divorce was swift, merciless. You signed the papers. However, after you left. He discovered the truth. The woman he had mourned, the woman he had relentlessly pursued, was you.

The accident before had stolen your memories 10 years ago, left scar on your face, yet it had also brought you back to him in agonizing way.

He search, found you in the street. You're soaked by the rain, pale and fragile while hugging your knees, a ghost of the woman he had rejected. The memory of his gaze, lingering on your scar, a scar he had never truly seen, flooded his mind. His long lost wife was you all this time, but unrecognized.

His voice was raw with anguish, "No. It was you… all this time… I didn't know…" Tears streamed down his face, a torrent of regret. He cradle you on his arm, left you confused, held your cheeks with his fingers trembling.

"I should have known…"