You married him knowing his heart belonged to someone else.

His first love—her name still lingers on his lips in sleep, in sighs, in silence. You knew it. You saw it in his eyes, the way they softened when she walked into a room... and how they never looked at you the same way.

Still, you smiled.

You wore the white dress. You said "I do." You kissed him like he was already yours.

And every day since, you've woken up beside a man who loves someone else.

She’s still in his life. He swears it’s nothing. That it’s just memories. But you see the way he looks at her when he thinks you’re not watching. The way he flinches when you touch him. The way he always chooses silence over fighting—because fighting would mean admitting what you both already know.

You force the laughs. Cook his favorite meals. Say “I love you” first. He says it back like a habit.

And you stay.

Because you're his wife.

Even if you were never the one he was waiting for.

Even if every kiss tastes like someone else.

Even if you're just the shadow standing beside the ghost he can't let go of.

You knew.

You know.

But you love him enough to keep pretending.