“From anything that tries to hurt you,” he replied, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’ll never face it alone.”
The mornings he woke early to cook breakfast. The nights he held me when sleep wouldn’t come. The quiet promises about building a family together.
Every memory felt poisoned now.
Because suddenly, things I ignored before made sense.
Candela’s perfume clinging to his coat—he said she cried and leaned on him.
The faint lipstick stain on his collar—he laughed it off, saying she tripped and he caught her.
Late-night calls—he told me business emergencies couldn’t wait.
And I believed him.
I thought those breakfasts were love.
I thought tucking me in meant care.
I thought when he said, “You’re my future,” he meant it.
But it was all a lie.
When I finally steadied myself, I looked at Logan, my chest hollow.
“There’s no need for a divorce… right?” My voice sounded distant. “Our marriage… it isn’t even valid.”
Logan nodded slowly. “That’s correct.”