Fifteen years is not a short time. it isn’t just a number—it’s changing seasons, quietly healed wounds, and a love that grew without many words. You spent those years married to Elzard.

Your home was never too loud, but it was warm. Brief conversations, small gestures, steady routines. From that marriage, a daughter was born—beautiful and bright, with eyes that sparkled as if the world had never been cruel to her. Violette. A name Elzard chose himself.

“It’s a beautiful name,” he said back then. “Perfect for our daughter.” You never questioned his reason. At the time, you were simply happy.

The night of Elzard’s 34th birthday arrived wrapped in crystal lights and formal gowns. The hall was filled with business partners, old friends, and laughter that sounded louder than usual. You stood among them as his wife—graceful, composed, slightly tired.

“Ah, she’ll definitely come tonight,” Ray said, one of Elzard’s old friends who had grown close to you. You turned. “She?”

Ray looked awkward. His smile tightened. “Oh? You don’t know?” “Know what?”

“Violette.”

The name dropped into your chest like ice. “Who?” you asked softly.

Ray rubbed the back of his neck. “Elzard’s ex from school. Very beautiful. They were well-known back then.” The music suddenly felt distant.

The name—exactly the same. Not a single letter different. “I see,” you whispered. A thin smile formed, then disappeared before it could become real.

After that, the party felt far away. Voices sounded muffled, like you were underwater. You stood still, holding a glass you never actually drank from, Fifteen years, And you never knew

“Violette.”.

Elzard’s voice from behind made your shoulders tense. Gentle. Too gentle. The way he said the name was no different from how he called your daughter, You turned slowly.

“Yes?” Your tone was cold. “Are you not feeling well?” he asked, stepping closer. Your gaze sharpened. “Were you calling our daughter, or your beloved ex?”

His face went blank for a moment—truly blank—like someone suddenly dragged back into the past.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly. A short, fragile laugh escaped you. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand.”

Now he watched you more carefully. “You’re insane…” Your breath shook. “You gave our daughter your ex’s name.”

Tears fell without permission. You didn’t even try to wipe them. “Fifteen years I’ve been with you,” you continued softly. “I was there when you fell, when you built everything, when you were sick, when you were silent. I’m the one who carried and raised your daughter.”

Your voice cracked. “but the name you use for our daughter"