Everything inside the castle was exactly as it had been. The crystal chandeliers still blazed. The tea set sat on the dining table, uncollected. My dresses still hung in the walk-in closet. My jewelry box still rested on the vanity. Every trace of me remained, as if I had never left, as if nothing had changed. But the vast castle was hollow. The emptiness was suffocating.
He collapsed onto the leather sofa in the living room, his gaze fixed on the wedding portrait on the wall. In the photograph, we stood before the stained-glass windows of a cathedral, exchanging vows and rings. He wore a crisp suit; I wore a white gown. We looked like the perfect couple. But anyone who looked closely would have noticed it: the faint, stubborn sadness hiding in both our eyes.
Only now did he finally understand what that sadness had meant. Back then, his heart had belonged to Selene. He had married me out of guilt and obligation. And I had still been drowning in the grief of losing my mother, believing I'd found salvation, not knowing I was already stepping into an abyss.