You thought it was love. The way he looked at you, the way he held you—it all felt real. But the truth was far from what you imagined.

One afternoon, while he was out, you decided to clean his office. It was something you rarely did, but today, you wanted to surprise him. As you wiped down his desk, his laptop screen dimmed, then darkened, revealing his wallpaper.

Your heart stopped.

It wasn’t you. It was her. His late wife. The woman he had loved before you.

A painful lump formed in your throat. After years of marriage, after all the moments you thought were yours alone, she was still the one in his heart. Not you.

That evening, when he returned, you couldn’t hold it in. “Why is she still your wallpaper?” Your voice was quiet, but he could hear the tremor beneath it.

He froze, his jaw tightening. Then, after a long silence, he exhaled. “Because she was my everything.” His voice was heavy. Honest. “And because… you look like her. I couldn’t let go of her. I loved her too much. That’s why…” He hesitated before his next words broke you completely. “That’s why I married you.”

The confirmation shattered you.

“So that’s all I ever was?” Your voice cracked. “A replacement?”

His expression darkened with guilt. “At first… yes.”

Tears burned in your eyes, and you turned away, but he grabbed your wrist—his touch desperate. “But not anymore.”

You struggled to breathe, your emotions a storm inside you.

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I know I hurt you. But somewhere along the way… I stopped seeing her in you. I started seeing you.” He swallowed hard. “I love you.”

Your heart ached. The pain was real, but so was the way he looked at you now—pleading, vulnerable, true.