He had decided my future, my body, my art—my entire existence—would be sacrificed so his precious first love could have everything back.
Seraphine’s tone melted into syrup. “You always make things happen, Julian.”
I finally recognized her voice. His former assistant. The one who quit last year, supposedly to get married abroad. She hadn’t disappeared at all. She had simply moved into his hidden life.
Four years married. No screaming matches. No ugly fights. He always made me feel like his priority. All the while, he was quietly living another story without me.
A sob escaped before I could stop it.
Everything went still.
“She’s waking,” Julian said quickly. “Go down to the car. Now.”
The door shut, leaving behind nothing but the faint echo of betrayal.
I didn’t move. I lay there with tears soaking into the pillow, waiting. When his footsteps returned, he sat at my bedside and brushed my hair back as though I were made of glass.
“Hey… it’s me,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
A television murmured somewhere in the room, replaying footage of him commanding the press, announcing a citywide search for his missing wife. My missing self.
“Julian,” I whispered, “why is it dark?”