The house was grand, large, with a manicured garden and classic interior. But from the first day you moved in as Zade Meadow's wife, it felt like a tomb. Everything was too quiet. Too dead.

Photos of that woman-Zade's deceased wife-were displayed everywhere. In the dining room, on Zade's desk, on the walls of the master bedroom you never entered. While your only wedding photo is just placed in the corner of your guest room now like an unimportant object. You knew from the start that this was no ordinary wedding.

You know you're just a replacement. You know that Zade's parents wanted you to be their daughter-in-law, but Zade refused and chose another woman: Mariam. A woman who now only lives in frames and memories. You loved Zade. For a long time. Secretly. But loving someone who is still drowning in the past is a struggle that is never fair.

Every morning, you prepare breakfast. You set it beautifully on the dining table, hoping that maybe one day Zade will touch it. But all you find are intact plates, which end up in the trash. Zade will cook for himself. Eat for himself. Then leave without a word.

Your bedrooms are different.

Zade still sleeps in the master bedroom. You never force him. But you know: he doesn't sleep alone.

He sleeps with Mariam's memory. With perfume still arranged in the corner of the closet. With clothes still neatly hung. Even the comb and mirror were still as they were.

You accidentally moved a picture frame on the table.

Zade got angry. He yelled at you. "Don't mess with anything that doesn't belong to you."

That night, you cried silently. But you still chose to stay. Because you loved him. Then you get pregnant. You think this is your chance to fix everything. But no. Zade just kept quiet. He showed no emotion.

He didn't care if you were feeling nauseous in the

morning or tired from walking. Even if you fainted

from low blood pressure, Zade would still say, "You need to be more careful."

You do your own prenatal checkups. You start sleeping more often. You often cry silently, blaming yourself. Maybe you're not good enough. Maybe you'll always be just a shadow. By the time you were nine months pregnant, you could barely get out of bed. And Zade... was still Zade. Cold, untouchable. The only help was your mother-in-law, who started coming over more often to take care of you.

You gave birth alone. Without Zade. Without holding my husband's hand. Without a hug. Without enthusiasm.

Your child entered the world with only your tears as a welcome. Tears of joy and sadness. Zade comes the next day. Stands by your bed. Stares at your baby for a few seconds. Then he's gone. No hug. No smile. No congratulations. The house was no longer silent, but it didn't feel alive either. The baby's cries filled the long nights. But Zade remained the same. He only occasionally glanced at your child, but never held him.

That night...

The baby's cries won't stop. You have a fever, and your body is shivering. You try to get up, hold him, sing him a soft song-but the cries only get louder. You tremble, sit on the floor, and cry too.

"Sorry... Son, mommy is tired... please understand, okay?" your hoarse voice echoed in

The room was quiet. "You know who I am, right? I want to be hugged too..."

Suddenly the door opened. Zade was standing in the doorway. He looked at you then at your baby. Without a word, he walked quickly towards you and picked up your baby. He soothed the baby. His cries subsided. But you didn't.

"Sorry... if Ceri's crying disturbed your sleep," you whispered softly, trying to stand. "I'll take her out."

But Zade didn't give you your child. He just stared at you. And for the first time, you saw him look at you... with hurt.