Purely Practical

Evelyn's POV

The flight feels endless.

Every hour stretches into eternity, the hum of the plane’s engines blending with the chaos in my mind. Questions multiply—how could he lie? Why would he?—only to be pushed away by fierce loyalty to the man I’ve loved for eight long years. Memories flood in unbidden: him holding Sophie when she was a tiny newborn, his large hands carefully supporting her fragile head; him bringing me steaming coffee in bed on bitter cold mornings, his smile soft as he brushed hair from my face; him wrapping his arm around me at family events, even if it was just for show, even if his touch felt distant sometimes. Those moments were warm, tangible, full of care—they can’t be fake, can they? I refuse to believe it.

Memories flash: him holding Sophie as a newborn. Bringing me coffee in bed on cold mornings. Wrapping his arm around me at family events—even if it was just for show.

Those moments can’t be fake… can they?

Sebastian’s hotel is grander than I imagined.

Imported marble floors gleam under the glow of crystal chandeliers that cast prisms of light across the room, the kind of opulence where multinational corporations close deals worth millions, where the elite gather to celebrate their success. It’s far grander than the quiet, cozy home we share with Sophie, a stark reminder of the world Sebastian inhabits—one I’ve never fully been part of, even after eight years.

I approach the concierge, heart hammering. “I’m looking for Sebastian Hawthorne. He’s a guest here.”

While waiting for an answer, my eyes instinctively scan the lobby—old habits die hard. Exits to the left and right, hidden security cameras in the corners, uniformed guards stationed near the entrance. It’s a reflex from a life I left behind years ago, back when I had to be alert, back when survival was my only priority. I thought I’d outgrown it, but it’s bone-deep, a part of me I can never fully shake.

An old habit, dormant for years. But bone-deep.

The concierge smiles professionally. “I can’t share guest info. But…” He gestures to the event wing, where music and laughter drift out. “There’s a celebration tonight. Many guests are there.”

I follow the music, down corridors lined with white roses and silk ribbons.

A wedding.

I pause. In this region, marriage is sacred—one union for life. No divorce. Only death parts couples.

That unwavering commitment gives me hope. Sebastian would never break a vow… right?

I think of the night Sophie spiked a dangerous, life-threatening fever, her small body burning up as I paced the floors, calling Sebastian a hundred times with no answer. I’ll never forget the panic in his eyes when he finally burst through the door hours later, disheveled and frantic, the man who was ready to mortgage our house, our cars, everything we owned just to get her the best treatment possible. That kind of devotion can’t be faked—how could a man willing to sacrifice his entire world for his daughter deceive me with a fake marriage certificate for eight long years?

How could a man who’d sacrifice his world for his family lie to me with a fake certificate for 8 years?

I shouldn’t let suspicion destroy my faith in him.

I step into an elevator with a bellhop pushing expensive suitcases. My mood lifts.

Soon, I’ll see Sebastian. We’ll clear up this misunderstanding. He’ll hold me, tell me I have nothing to worry about.

But when the elevator doors open—

Raised voices echo down the hallway.

“The bride’s suite is on the east wing!”

“Flowers were delivered to the west wing!”

The wedding party is in chaos. Staff hurry past, stressed.

My heart goes out to them. No one deserves this on their wedding day.

I walk toward the ballroom, ready to help with a smile.

But as I reach the open doorway—

My breath stops.

The man in the tuxedo, at the altar, about to take his bride’s hands…

It’s Sebastian. My husband.