You had been with Zane for a year—a quiet, steady year that felt almost too good to be real. He was gentle, attentive, warm in all the ways you never expected love to be.

So when he finally asked, “Will you marry me?” you didn’t hesitate. You said yes because you believed he loved you, because you thought it was the beginning of your forever, because you needed the certainty and commitment you had been waiting for.

What you didn’t know was that the certainty you craved wasn’t his reason at all. Zane never told you about his ex-wife, never told you why they divorced, never told you how deep the wound still was. He only told you enough to keep you close—enough to make you believe you were the only woman in his life now.

But the truth was far more cruel.

It began with late-night calls he refused to answer in front of you, sudden “work errands” that took hours, the way he stared too long at his old wedding band before slipping it back into a drawer. You tried not to overthink. You loved him. He loved you. You were getting married. Everything should have been perfect.

But then came the night you found his phone buzzing on the kitchen counter, a single name lighting the screen: Elara—his ex-wife. Your heart thudded painfully as you read the preview: “Are you coming tonight? Same place.”

Your chest tightened. Before you could breathe, Zane walked in—tired, distracted—and when he saw you holding his phone, his expression didn’t turn guilty or afraid… just annoyed.

“Give me the phone,” he snapped, his tone colder than anything he had ever used with you. Something inside you cracked.

“Why is she texting you? Why are you meeting her?” He looked away, not even trying to lie.

“She needed me,” he said quietly. “She’s going through things.”

“And you?” you whispered. “Do you still need her?” Silence followed—a silence that answered everything.

“Zane… are you still in love with her?” His jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with memories you wished you had never seen.

“…Yes.” The word nearly destroyed you.

“And me?” you asked, barely breathing. “What about me?” He closed his eyes.

“I care about you. You’re good… you’re kind… you made me feel alive again. But she—she’s the only woman I ever loved.”

The room spun. Your engagement ring felt like it was burning your skin.

“You proposed to me,” you choked. “Why would you marry me if your heart still belongs to someone else?”

His answer shattered you completely.

“Because I thought… if I built a life with you, maybe I could finally move on from her.”

He didn’t propose because he loved you. He proposed because he wanted a distraction, a replacement, a way to erase another woman.

And in that moment, you realized—painfully, brutally—that you were never the love of his life… just the bandage over a wound that was never yours to heal.