Chapter 1

I married Christopher Lausten during my first year of graduate school. Once we left City Hall, he rushed back to take care of his company while I returned to my studies.

Months passed without us seeing each other until winter break finally rolled around. I couldn't contain my excitement as I hauled my heavy suitcase to his place.

But when the door swung open, I was met by a gorgeous woman. She eyed me suspiciously before asking, "Who are you?"

Before I could answer, Christopher appeared behind her. His expression was conflicted as he jumped in, "She's my relative and will be staying over for a while."

I tried to speak, but the words got caught in my throat, thick and suffocating like a lump of cotton. His cold, oppressive stare met mine, and I was forced to swallow the words I wished I could say—"I'm his wife."

After hesitating, I dropped my gaze and muttered, "Sorry to bother you."

She exhaled in relief, though the hostility in her eyes remained. Each word underscored her claim on Christopher. "Hello. I'm Chris' girlfriend, Roxanne Lind."

I replied with a dry, raspy hum.

She didn't need to say her name. Two years ago, I'd learned about her, the woman Christopher had spent his youth longing for and could never let go of.

I first met Christopher through my close friend, Zoe Lausten, during my freshman year. He was her uncle.

I'd secretly admired him for two years before Zoe told me that Christopher's heart belonged to someone else—a love he couldn't have. He remained single at 27, and Roxanne was probably the reason why.

Zoe hadn't told me about that at first. She said Christopher seemed to treat me differently and worried that bringing up Roxanne might push me away.

But honestly, I would've been fine. Back then, my feelings for him were unshaken by doubts. I wouldn't have given up even if I'd known about Roxanne.

I naively thought Christopher needed more time to let go, and I was willing to wait. But I never imagined it would stretch into two years.

In those years, he brought me gifts and returned from trips abroad with cool stuff for me. When I was curled up in agony from menstrual cramps, he gave up a deal worth tens of millions just to bring me Ibuprofen and chamomile tea.

Christopher was great to me, but he always overlooked my feelings for him. When I was accepted into a graduate program in my final year, I knew our relationship didn't have a future.

On our last meeting, we returned to the same diner where we'd first met. I was finally over it.

Smiling, I said with a hint of humor, "I'm off to Jaskleton for grad school, Christopher. Congrats—you're finally free of a nuisance like me."

I tried to sound casual, but my voice grew heavy. "I'm sorry for being such a burden these last four years."

Unexpectedly, he pulled out a ring. "Will you marry me, Willow Sweeney?"

The answer was undoubtedly yes. I didn't question his reasons. I simply believed my perseverance had finally paid off.

Shortly after we got married, graduate school began. Christopher threw himself into running his company, and I left for Jaskleton.

Eager to see him sooner, I pulled several all-nighters, finishing the assignments from my advisor, Professor Tate, well in advance. But when I finally arrived at his place, my dream shattered before my eyes.

I knew I should feel angry, demand an explanation, or even lash out, but I couldn't. Deep down, I felt like I didn't have the right.

I'd sensed from the beginning there was more to this marriage. A part of me had always been too scared to dig deeper. I was afraid Christopher might regret everything if I did.

I just never thought my worst fears would be confirmed so soon.

While I was lost in thought, Christopher grabbed my heavy suitcase and led me to a guest room beside his bedroom. He set my things down but didn't leave right away.

Exhaustion hit me like a wave, and I just wanted some peace to lie down.

So, I gently asked him to go. "Your girlfriend is waiting for you outside, Mr. Lausten."

He paused, his deep-set eyes lingering on me for what felt like forever. Then, he finally said, "Roxanne is not my girlfriend."

But whether she was or wasn't didn't matter anymore. It all became irrelevant the moment she moved into his house and when he refused to admit who I was to him.