Bills

Days melted into weeks, life settling into a rhythm that felt both familiar and hollow. Elara threw herself into her routine with almost mechanical precision—morning coffee, work meetings, social obligations, all performed with a smile that never quite reached her eyes. She mastered the art of looking fine, of laughing at the right moments, of making small talk with the house staff as if her heart hadn’t been shattered that night.

In Damian’s presence, she was the perfect picture of composure. Their interactions became a carefully choreographed dance of polite exchanges and measured distances. She attended his business dinners with practiced grace, played her role as his wife flawlessly, all while building walls around her heart brick by brick. To anyone watching, she was the same Elara she’d always been.

“Damian,” she called, knocking on his door.

“What do you need?” he asked immediately as he opened the door.

“I need to talk to you,” she replied with a heavy heart. He looked at her,