Chapter 3

SERAPHINA’S POV

He stood there in the rain like someone who had finally run out of places to hide, his expensive coat darkened and clinging to him, his posture rigid in a way that told me he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

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I hated that the sight of him still did something to me, hated that after everything, my body remembered him even when my mind knew better, hated that a part of me wanted to reach out and smooth the tension from his shoulders the way I used to when he came home late and hollow-eyed.

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That instinct was a relic of a woman I no longer allowed to exist, and I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from acting on it.

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“Three years,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, the words heavy because I’d carried them alone for so long. “I spent three years trying to be enough for you.

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Do you have any idea what that does to a person? To wake up every day, wondering what else you could strip away from yourself to finally be worthy of being seen?” The rain streaked down my face, cold and sharp, but I didn’t step back. I needed him to hear this.

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“You don’t get to show up now and act confused. You want to know what happened? Then listen.”

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Lucien’s jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on mine, and for a moment I saw something unfamiliar there, not impatience, not dismissal, but something like shock. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, and I almost laughed at how predictable the words were, how useless.

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“Intent doesn’t erase damage,” I replied flatly.

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“When we met, you were different. You were present. You asked about my work, my ideas, the things that mattered to me. You pursued me like you had all the time in the world, like nothing else was more important. You made me believe in a version of you that didn’t survive the wedding.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going.

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“The wedding was beautiful. Your family smiled for the cameras. Your mother barely hid her contempt, but I told myself it didn’t matter because we loved each other. I believed that love would be enough.”

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“What changed?” he asked quietly, and the question made something twist inside my chest because of how genuinely he seemed to want the answer.

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“You did,” I said.

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“The day after our honeymoon, you went back to work and never really came back. You stayed at the office until midnight. Sometimes later. When you were home, you were distracted, buried in your phone, in reports, in anything that wasn’t me.”

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My voice tightened. “I would cook dinner and sit across from you while you ate without looking up. I’d try to talk, and you’d answer like conversation was a chore.”

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Lucien flinched, and I felt a grim satisfaction at finally landing a blow that mattered. “I tried everything,” I continued, the words spilling out now that the dam had broken. “I dressed up for you. I planned dates. I learned your favorite foods. I rearranged my entire life around your schedule because you always said you were busy, and I believed you.” I shook my head slowly.

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“You treated me like an assistant. No, that’s generous. You were kinder to your assistants than you ever were to me.”

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“Seraphina—”

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“I’m not finished,” I cut in, the sharpness of my voice surprising even me.

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“Your mother made comments about my background like it was something shameful. Your brother humiliated me openly. Your father acted like I didn’t exist. And you stood there and let it happen. You never defended me. You never even asked if I was okay afterward.”

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“I didn’t know,” he said, but the words sounded thin.

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“You did,”

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I replied, quieter now, and that somehow made it worse. “You just didn’t care enough to notice.” I wiped rain from my face, my throat aching.

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“The worst part wasn’t even the neglect. It was the hope. Every few months, usually late at night, you’d come to me. You’d touch me as if I mattered. You’d hold me as you needed me. And I would think just for a moment that maybe this time you’d stay.”

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“And in the morning?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

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“In the morning, you were gone again,” I said. “Or worse, you were there but cold, as none of it had happened.” I laughed bitterly.

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“Do you know what it’s like to be married and completely alone? To feel like a ghost in your own home?”

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“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

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“Stop apologizing,”

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I said. “I don’t want apologies. I want you to understand.” I took a step back, putting space between us.

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“You called me into your office. You already had the divorce papers prepared. You explained calmly that the marriage had run its course, that you’d been generous with the settlement. Then you checked your watch and said you had a flight to catch, so if I could sign quickly, you’d appreciate it.”

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Lucien went pale. “I said that?”

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“Word for word,” I replied. “You thanked me for being reasonable. Then you reminded me to leave my access card at the front desk on my way out.” My voice hardened. “That was the last thing you said to me. Not goodbye. No, I’m sorry. A reminder about a card.”

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He looked like he might be sick, and for a fleeting moment, I felt something like pity, then I crushed it. “You were cruel,” I said. “Not because you screamed or hit me. Because you didn’t care. And that was worse.”

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“Let me make it right,” he said, stepping forward instinctively.

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I stepped back just as quickly. “You can’t,” I said. “You can’t undo three years. You can’t give me back who I was before you taught me I was invisible.” I turned toward the gallery door. “Go back to New York, Lucien. Forget you found me.”

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“That’s a lie,” he said softly.

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I froze because he was right, and I hated him for seeing it. “You want to know the saddest part?” I said, forcing myself to look at him one last time. “I would have done anything for you. And you couldn’t even choose me back.”

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I went inside and locked the door, my hands shaking as the click echoed in the quiet space. Through the glass, I watched him stand there in the rain for a long moment before finally turning away, and I told myself that watching him leave was proof I was stronger now.

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But when my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number, his number and the words “I was wrong about everything” appeared on the screen, my chest tightened painfully.

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And I knew that walking away was only the beginning of the fight.