Chapter 1: Three Years After

December had just begun, and the air was colder than ever. The chill seeped through the walls, making the house feel emptier than usual.

Lara sat curled up on the sofa, her laptop balanced on her lap as she worked on her lesson plans. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, but her eyes kept drifting toward the wall clock.

8:15 PM.

Lucas should have been home by now.

He usually arrived by eight, but lately, his schedule had become unpredictable. Some nights, he came home late. Other nights, not at all. She told herself not to overthink it—he was a busy man, after all. But deep down, worry gnawed at her, mingling with frustration. They barely saw each other as it was. And now, even the little time they had under the same roof was slipping away.

It was ironic, really. They were married, yet they lived like strangers.

She let out a sigh, trying to shake off the unease settling in her chest. Was he doing this on purpose? Avoiding her at all costs? Did he truly hate her that much?

Lara bit her lower lip, forcing back the sting of tears. She had no right to be upset. She had chosen this path. She had known what she was getting into.

With a deep sigh, she forced herself to focus on her laptop. But before she could type another word, the familiar sound of tires screeching against the pavement caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat.

She rushed to the window and peeked through the curtains.

A sleek black Maybach had pulled up in front of the house. A moment later, the driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a tall man in a tailored suit.

Lucas.

Even after all these years, he still took her breath away. His striking features, sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and effortless grace stood out even under the dim glow of the streetlights. He looked like someone straight out of a magazine—perfect and untouchable.

And completely indifferent to her existence.

Lucas stood beside the car for a moment, adjusting his cufflinks. As if sensing her gaze, his cold, piercing gaze lifted to meet hers through the window where she stood.

Lara froze, her breath hitching. His gaze was as emotionless as ever, carrying the same chilling indifference she had grown used to. And yet, it still hurt.

Shaking off her disappointment, she hurried to the front door, opening it just as he reached the entrance.

“Honey, welcome home,” she greeted softly, forcing a smile.

Lucas barely spared her a glance before brushing past her.

Her smile faltered slightly, but she refused to let it drop. “Are you hungry? I made dinner—”

“Shut it,” he cut her off, his voice laced with exhaustion and irritation. “I'm dead tired, Lara. I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now.”

She lowered her gaze, fiddling with her fingers. “But I cooked...” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Lucas scoffed. “Did I ask you to?”

Lara swallowed, clenching her fingers together. “I just thought—”

“I already ate.” His tone was sharp, dismissive. “Now, move the fuck out of my way. I’m already pissed that I have to come home to this house and see your face every damn day. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t bother coming here at all.”

His voice was laced with irritation as he brushed past her, heading straight for the stairs.

Lara stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides as she watched his retreating figure. The coldness in his voice, the utter disregard—it wasn’t new. But no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt.

Swallowing down the pain, and forced herself to move. Mechanically, she walked toward the dining table, staring at the untouched dishes she had prepared with so much hope.

“I guess I’m eating alone again,” she whispered.