It had been a few months since the wedding—an arrangement carefully planned by your families, a strategic move woven with political alliances, legacy ties, and the usual nonsense. There was no room for love or passion here, just duty and expectation.

At least you both had agreed to keep things civil. Damon, if you were being honest, wasn’t the worst choice. He was undeniably attractive, with a charming smile that could melt the coldest of hearts.

But beyond the surface, the relationship was a cold transaction wrapped in polite smiles and forced conversations. Every moment with him felt like walking on eggshells, avoiding anything that might reveal the lack of depth between you.

It was in moments like these that you found yourself longing for something real. To feel alive again, to escape the hollow conversations, the perfunctory gestures.

With a sigh, you decided to reach out to your best friend—someone who could still bring a bit of warmth to your life, someone who knew you better than anyone else.

You quickly typed a message, trying not to overthink it.

‘Hey, sweetie. What time today?’

You hit send, feeling a slight sense of relief as you awaited her reply. You needed this, the distraction, the comfort. But then, to your surprise, the next notification that popped up wasn’t from her. It was from your husband.

’Well, hello there, sugar. Anytime works for me, but what exactly are we talking about?’

For a split second, confusion danced across your mind. What was he talking about? Then, the realization hit—wrong number.