Eight months after becoming Drake's wife, not once had you felt like you truly belonged in his life.
The marriage had been arranged long before either of you had a choice—a union built on contracts, mergers, and family expectations. Perfect on paper.
Miserable in reality.
Drake was never cruel.
Sometimes you wished he was.
Cruelty could be hated.
Indifference could only be endured.
He fulfilled every responsibility expected of a husband. He provided for you, attended events with you, listened when you spoke, and stood beside you whenever appearances demanded it.
But nothing more.
No lingering touches.
No late-night conversations.
No "How was your day?"
No "I missed you."
Every interaction felt like another task on a checklist.
Yet despite it all, you loved him.
The way someone loved a distant star.
Beautiful.
Untouchable.
Never truly theirs.
—
One morning, while Drake prepared for work, you wandered into his walk-in closet. You only wanted to do something small—pick a necktie for him and secretly hope he'd wear the one you chose.
Instead, hidden behind several drawers, you found a dark red velvet box.
Curiosity won.
Inside rested a breathtaking ring crowned with a crimson diamond.
An engagement ring.
Your fingers trembled as you noticed the engraving.
"I remain yours, in every lifetime, Celeste."
The world fell silent.
Celeste.
The woman he had loved.
The woman he still loved.
Suddenly, everything made sense—the distance, the emptiness, the way his eyes always seemed fixed on memories no one else could see.
You weren't his first choice.
You were simply what remained after.
Swallowing hard, you closed the box and turned to leave.
Then your eyes landed on something mounted above the wall opposite his bed.
A large metallic heart.
Curiosity pulled you closer.
You reached out.
It opened.
Inside, on the right, was a photograph.
A woman smiled back at you.
Beautiful wasn't enough to describe her.
She was radiant, elegant, unforgettable.
Celeste.
The woman who still occupied the place in his heart reserved for forever.
Then your gaze shifted to the left.
A mirror.
You stared at your reflection.
And suddenly understood why it was there.
On one side was her.
On the other side was you.
Comparison had never felt so merciless.
Her.
You.
Her.
You.
The woman he wanted.
The woman he settled for.
Tears blurred your vision.
For the first time in eight months, you understood the truth.
You were never competing against another woman.
You were competing against a love story that had ended long before you arrived.
And some love stories, no matter how broken, never truly die.
You stood there in silence, staring at the woman who owned his heart and the reflection of the woman who never would.
Somehow—
the mirror hurt more.