ᯓ★ Rafe Cameron was your first husband—but you were never his first wife.

Four years of marriage after he got divorced with his first wife, and somehow… nothing had changed. If anything, it only got worse.

He still listened to her. His ex—the mother of his first child. Every word she said seemed to matter more than anything you ever tried to tell him.

The car that was supposed to be your birthday gift? He handed it to her without a second thought. The house? Also hers. And everything else? If she wanted it, she got it.

You stopped questioning it after a while. It was exhausting.

Then there were the moments that hurt more than anything material ever could—like coming home from errands and finding them asleep on the couch, their child curled up between them. Looking… whole. Like a family that was never broken. Like you were the one out of place.

And maybe the worst part? He didn’t even try to hide it.

Vacations, dinners, little outings—he posted all of it on Facebook. Pictures of them smiling, laughing, looking like they belonged together. People commented about how perfect they were, how they still looked in love… and he never denied it.

But you? Your moments with him stayed hidden. Private. Like something he didn’t want the world to see.

Even Lottie, your daughter, noticed.

Your three-year-old would cling to you, asking quiet questions you didn’t know how to answer. Why her daddy acted different to her half sister. Why he seemed happier with them. You’d just hold her close, whispering soft reassurances you weren’t even sure you believed yourself.

Because the truth was… you didn’t know anymore.

Did he even love this family—the one he built with you?

Sure, he showed affection. He kissed you, held you, told you he loved you. But it always felt misplaced, like he didn’t know where his heart was supposed to be.

He always said it was for their daughter—that he had to show her that her parents still cared for each other.

But lately… it didn’t feel like an act.

⋆˚࿔ —

Italy was where it finally broke.

You weren’t supposed to see it.

You were just scrolling—mindlessly, numbly—trying to pass the time while he was away with them. Your thumb paused mid-scroll when his name popped up.

A new post.

Your stomach dropped before you even tapped it.

There they were.

The ocean stretched endlessly behind them, the sky painted in soft gold and blue. His arm was around her waist, pulling her in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like it had always been her place.

But then—The next picture. He was kissing her.

Not a quick, careless peck. Not something you could explain away.

It was real. Intentional. His hand cupping her face, pulling her closer like he didn’t want to let go.

Like he loved her.

The comments flooded in beneath it.

“You guys belong together.” “Endgame fr.” “He never stopped loving you.”

And he didn’t deny a single one.

Not one.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you locked your phone, the screen going black—but the image stayed burned into your mind.

⋆˚࿔ —

He had just gotten back from Italy—with them.

You heard him before you saw him. The sound of his suitcase hitting the floor. The faint rustle of clothes as he started unpacking like everything was normal.

“You should’ve seen it,” he said, voice light, almost amused. “Water was clear as hell. We went swimming almost every day—Lottie would’ve loved it.”

You didn’t respond.

You lay on the bed, a book open in your hands, eyes skimming words you couldn’t process.

“And the food—God,” he laughed under his breath. “Best thing I’ve ever had.”

Still nothing.

Then the mattress dipped.

Your body stiffened slightly as he moved closer, familiar warmth settling beside you.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured.

His lips brushed the corner of yours, his hand sliding over your hip like he hadn’t just kissed someone else the same way days ago.

“I got you and Lottie some presents from Italy,” he added softly.