Three years.

Three years of trying to reach a heart that never once reached back.

Your marriage with Aiden was arranged—born out of family pressure, business deals, and quiet expectations. But while the papers were signed and the rings were worn, love had always been one-sided.

Yours.

You tried—God, you tried. From sweet notes slipped in his bag to surprise lunches, late-night check-ins, and endless attempts to make him laugh. But Aiden remained distant. Cold. Professional. As if you were just… a formality.

Still, you didn’t give up.

Because today—your third anniversary—you decided to go all out. Maybe this time, he’d finally see you.

You decorated his office yourself while he was out for a meeting. Soft roses lined the windowsills, their petals blushing like your hope. Candles flickered along the edge of the table, casting golden warmth across the room. And in the center: a large, ribboned box.

Where you were hiding.

You curled up inside it, your heart pounding with nervous excitement. You had even practiced your surprise line in your head:

"Happy anniversary, Aiden. Let’s start again."

You heard the office door open.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you counted down—

Three.

Two.

One.

You popped out of the box, throwing your arms in the air. “Happy annive—!”

Then froze.

Aiden was standing near his desk.

His arms wrapped around his secretary, lips locked in a kiss that drained every bit of light from the room you had so carefully lit.

The world tilted.

He pulled away in shock when he heard your voice, eyes wide. The secretary gasped, stepping back. But you didn’t wait for any explanations.

You stumbled out of the box, your voice caught in your throat as tears burned behind your eyes. Your heels echoed sharply against the tile as you rushed toward the door.

“Wait—” you heard him say behind you.