You always knew you weren’t Rafes first love. It was her - Sofia. He wasn’t yours. and he never would be.

You got the things you wanted - you wanted him, he wanted you, only when it was convenient for him. It felt so right with him. Every time he’d look at you with them soft, piercing eyes, every time he spoke his soft voice traveled straight through you, his touch, his smile, his face - it all drove you crazy.

Only when he was near, that it felt like it was you two against the world. Every sense of reality around you disappeared around him. Nothing mattered when it was just the two of you. But of course she was still in the picture. Why?

Because I was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.

You weren’t supposed to let it turn out like this. It was painfully obvious that you loved him. So every time you’d see him with her it felt like salt in the wound. You’d cry yourself to sleep every night knowing you could never be his woman. Why?

The other woman will always cry herself to sleep. The other woman will never have his love to keep.

So there you were, sat on the balcony at the Tannyhill estate for the Cameron’s annual summer tradition watching Rafe and Sofia through the small crevasses of the wall. His hand was glued to her lower back, pulling her into his chest as her hand rested on his bicep.

He chuckled at something she had said - your heart ached as you saw the way his eyes glimmered, full of love and passion.

A look you would do anything for.

Later that evening, you found yourself on the balcony with Rafe, sharing a blunt as you peruse small talk.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.” He glanced over to you, watching the way your eyes were on anything but him.

“Don’t make this about her.” He groans as he turns to face you.

“Look,” you turn to face him, eyes locking onto his, “A woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.” You sigh.

You both knew the truth. You were, and always will be the other woman.