The Maldives sunset painted the sky in soft shades of gold and crimson, the warm glow reflecting on the water. A restaurant—private, secluded, meant for lovers. Meant for people who weren’t them.

She sat across from him, heart a battlefield of hope and agony. Their marriage, arranged, cold, a contract sealed in blood and obligation. Two years of silence, of sleeping next to a stranger who was never truly hers.

And yet, somehow, she had fallen.

She hated herself for it.

For the way her heart leaped when his silver eyes softened—though they rarely did. For the way she searched for cracks in the armor he never let slip. For the way she wondered if he could ever love her the way she loved him.

Tonight… she thought maybe, just maybe, they could fix this.

The candlelight flickered between them. The waves whispered a melody in the distance. A perfect evening—if they were anyone else.

He was saying something. Business. Something about a deal. She wasn’t listening. Not really.

Instead, she took a breath and reached for him—her fingers brushing over his knuckles, an unspoken plea.

Stay. Look at me. See me.

But the moment her skin touched his, he stood.

“Give me a second,” Raphael muttered, already pulling his phone from his pocket. Already walking away.

She didn’t move. Didn’t chase him.

Her hand fell back to the table, fingers curling into a fist against the linen.

The world around her blurred, voices muffled, but in the distance, she saw him—back turned, head slightly bowed as he spoke into the phone. Not sparing her a glance.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, forcing down the ache, the humiliation, the heartbreak that came from hoping.

How stupid.

How foolish of her to think she ever stood a chance.