Chapter 2
“Ryan, do you remember what day it is today?”
Ryan didn’t even look up from his phone, smiling as he typed what I could only assume was a message to Catherine. When I asked, he shot me a cold look, his brow furrowing in irritation.
“You have that meeting with the French today, right? Do it well. Don’t embarrass me,” he said, dismissing me without a second glance.
I stumbled back, my heart sinking. He turned away without a second thought, his attention already back on his phone.
A surprise gift I had carefully hidden in
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his wardrobe just a week ago now felt like nothing more than a cruel joke. As I stared at my husband, completely unaware of the significance of the day, the reality hit me like a slap: he had completely forgotten our anniversary.
“I’m running late, so pack an extra lunch for me before you head to the headquarters, Ryan ordered, his voice cold and detached as he grabbed his coat.
The door slammed behind him, and I crumpled to the floor, unable to hold it together anymore. My body curled into a tight ball, the overwhelming wave of sadness crashing over me. This wasn’t just a bad day; it felt like an unbearable nightmare.
Later, when I arrived at the headquarters, the guard didn’t escort me to my usual office. Instead, he took me to another part of the
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building–the section reserved for Ryan’s mother, Rose Quartz.
I straightened my posture, forcing myself to appear calm despite the nerves twisting in my stomach.
Rose Quartz, my mother–in–law, had been the one to orchestrate the entire marriage alliance with my mother, practically begging for me to marry Ryan. I had been nothing more than a pawn in their power game.
“Ma’am,” I greeted her, my voice steady as I sat down only when she gave a sharp nod. No matter how much I tried to be the perfect wife, she was never truly satisfied with me.
“Are you unhappy with my son, Ryan?” she asked, her voice biting, as though she already knew the answer. In the past, I would’ve answered her carefully, choosing
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my words with precision. But today, I didn’t have the energy to play her game. I met her gaze directly, unflinching.
“I had a miscarriage yesterday, I said flatly. “The doctor said my baby could have been saved if I’d been brought to the hospital
earlier. I called Ryan. I even texted him. But he was with his mistress.””
The color drained from Rose’s face as she absorbed my words. She remained silent, stunned by my bluntness.
“You’ve always been such a good daughter–in–law,” she said, her tone softening, almost pleading. “Why don’t you forgive Ryan? I’ll take care of his mistress for you. I’ll make sure he understands.”
“If my father knew how his only daughter was being treated, he’d be furious,” I shot
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back, not hiding my disdain. “But as for Ryan and his mistress, I couldn’t care less. He’s broken me enough already. Any more, and I may as well be dead.” I smiled coldly, then stood up, not waiting for her response.
The night dragged on as I worked late into the hours. Not because I wanted to help Ryan, but because I needed to gather information. My thoughts raced, planning my next move, anything to distract myself from the ache in my chest.
At midnight, Ryan appeared in the doorway, his voice cutting through the silence.
“Helena, you’re still here?” he asked, his eyes scanning the disarray on my desk as he began tidying up the scattered papers.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” he demanded, his frustration palpable.
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“I was busy,” I replied, keeping my voice cool. “What do you want?”
Without waiting for a response, Ryan placed
a bouquet of white roses and a bottle of red wine on my desk. Was this his way of trying to make up for this morning? A pathetic attempt to salvage the damage he’d done?
I didn’t even glance at the flowers. They meant nothing to me anymore.
Ryan’s expression faltered, his mood darkening as he stepped closer, his arm reaching out to grab mine.
“Won’t you have a drink with me?” His voice was softer now, almost pleading.
In the first year of our marriage, we used to drive along the coast, sipping my favorite
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red wine and enjoying seafood. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“The doctor told me to avoid alcohol,” I said, pulling my arm free from his grip. “It’s getting late. I’m going home.”
I grabbed my purse and phone, standing up and walking past him without a second glance.
Ryan was left frozen in place, his eyes fixed on the untouched bouquet. He looked surprised that I hadn’t taken the flowers, but I wasn’t interested in his empty gestures.
“Isn’t this what you wanted earlier?” he asked, clearly irritated. “Why the sudden change?”
“I’ll look at them later,‘ I muttered, walking away. Ryan didn’t say anything else as I
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exited the headquarters. The door clicked shut behind me, and my phone buzzed with a notification.
It was from Catherine.
She had posted a new picture–one of her surrounded by dozens of white roses, a smile plastered across her face. The caption read:
“Do you want to bury me in flowers?”
The words stung, cutting deeper than any wound. The emptiness inside me only grew, and I couldn’t help but feel that I was fading into nothing, lost in the shadow of his betrayal.
As soon as I stepped into the house, I didn’t wait for Ryan to get out of the car. I made a beeline for my room, my heart pounding with
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an unsettling mixture of anticipation and dread.
Five years ago, on this very day, we had gotten married. Today, it felt like everything was coming full circle–and not in the way I had ever imagined.
I had already packed the things I brought from my parent’s house. A suitcase sat by the door, holding the remnants of the life I had once tried to build. Everything Ryan had bought for me–everything he had given- was left behind, gathering dust, no longer relevant to who I had become.
Ryan stepped into the room and saw the suitcase immediately. He paused, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t ask a single question. The silence hung thick in the air, charged with everything unsaid between us.
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“The French have invited us to their celebration next week,” he said casually, his tone flat. “Do you want to go as a couple?”
Without missing a beat, I replied, “No, I’m busy”
Ryan’s jaw clenched, his fingers gripping my shoulders with a force that was almost painful.
“Haven’t I already made up for those damn flowers?” he snapped. “Why are you still acting so petty?”
I stared at him, forcing myself to remain calm. “It’s nothing. Why would I care?”
“Fine,” he bit out. “Then I’ll take Catherine with me.”
