Chasing Elara

 gripped my clutch so tight my fingers ached. Cameras flashed nonstop, catching Sebastian’s face in perfect focus. His smile was effortless, his stride confident. Everyone’s eyes were on him. And me? Invisible.

“Mr. Banks, over here,” someone called. He didn’t bother turning.

I fell into step behind him, heels clicking softly against marble. “Sebastian,” I said, hoping for even the smallest acknowledgment. “The Huang Group asked if you’d meet them tomorrow.”

His eyes met mine briefly. Cold. “I’ll attend to that later.”

Later. Always later.

Nearby, a group of women whispered, close enough for me to hear.

“That man would make a fine husband.”

“Isn’t he married?”

“Yes, but his wife… is a nobody. If I tried, I wou

uld have him wrapped around my fingers in weeks.”

“Honestly, he doesn’t even look married,” another added.

My chest tightened and my fingers ached from the clutch, but what hurt more wasn’t physical pain, it was humiliation, the sharp sting of being invisible to the man I had loved every day for years.

I remembered the first time we met in business school. He had this effortless charm, brains, and a smile that made you feel like you’d known him forever and I was just another student until we were paired for a project. 

Over time, our late-night coffee runs, endless debates over case studies and shared laughter all turned into a connection I didn’t expect and by the end of junior year, we were inseparable. 

We married quietly after college and his father, the judge, officiated the courthouse ceremony. The reception was a whisper of glamour and suddenly, I, the girl no one noticed was married to New York’s most eligible bachelor.

For a while, it felt like magic. He adored me and the world paused when I was around but somewhere along the way, that magic died.

He immersed himself in work, dismissing my complaints with a glance or a sigh. The man who once had time only for me now barely had time to speak to me.

I pushed my doubts aside, focusing on the crowd. Sebastian was beside a man whose arm was around his wife, praising her openly. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard and leaned closer.

“Babe,” I said, voice strained. “Let’s dance.”

He paused, irritation flashing. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“You were just talking casually with a man who had his wife beside him,” I shot back. “You couldn’t even introduce me.”

“Elara, stop.”

“Stop what?” I raised my voice, even as my heart pounded. “Stop wanting your attention? Stop trying to connect with you? Stop pretending I’m not hurt?”

Heads turned and they judged with their eyes but I didn’t care. I needed him to feel this, to see me, Elara, the woman he once loved, standing here broken.

“Okay, you're blowing things out of proportion,” he said, exasperated. “I need you to behave.”

I froze and clenched my fists, hands trembling in total disbelief. I had to get out before I broke down completely.

I turned toward the exit, my heart racing, trying to steady my shaking legs.

But just before I left, I looked back and I instantly wished I hadn’t.

Standing beside my husband was Victoria, his so-called coworker. Her arm was hooked in his and the irritation on his face was gone, replaced by a smile I hadn’t seen in a long time.

My stomach twisted, my breaths came shallow and fast, my fingers tightened around my clutch. Every slight I had endured, every humiliation from the night pressed down on me until I felt small beneath the weight of it. My knees threatened to give out and I felt like if I kept staring I would puke.

I wanted to scream, to walk back there and shake him until he remembered I existed,

but I didn’t move. He stepped closer to her.

I swallowed hard and wondered if he would ever see the damage he had done. Maybe she was the one he wanted.

And in that moment, for the first time, I let myself see and accept the truth. Surviving on crumbs of his attention was no longer enough.

Some love stories aren’t forever and I needed to decide if surviving meant leaving. And surprisingly, the thought didn’t terrify me the way it once had.

…………

I waited until we were finally alone to talk again.

The penthouse was quiet and for some reason I felt out of place tonight. His jacket lay carelessly over a chair, his tie loosened and he looked so calm, like nothing had happened today.

“Why does she matter more than me?” I finally voiced the question on my mind.

My voice was calm but my hands trembled.

Sabastine sighed like I had asked him something hard.. “Elara, not this again please. I am tired.”

“I’m serious, Sabastine, I just want to know.”

He walked to the bar and poured himself a drink, ice clinking softly as it hit the bottom of the glass. He looked unaffected by all of these.

“You’re imagining things. Victoria works for me and that’s it.”

“But that’s not what I asked.”

He turned, irritation flickering across his face. “She’s efficient and she understands my world. What else do you want me to say?”

“So why don’t you look at me the way you look at her?”

He looked taken aback and no response was forthcoming so I stepped closer.

“Answer me. Why do you look happier when you are with her? Why does she have a grip over you? Why does she effortlessly get the parts of you I’ve been begging for for months?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, you don't?”

“Again, you’re overthinking this.”

“No. Don’t make me feel stupid. I know what I saw.”

“Then maybe you’re making something out of nothing.”

“I know what nothing looks like, Seb. I stood in a room full of people while strangers spoke about your wife like she was an inconvenience.”

“But that’s not my problem.”

Something inside me broke. “I am your wife. How is that not your problem?”

He laughed once but it was rigid and humorless. “Come on, can’t you see it? It’s because you make everything a problem.”

See, if they spoke about you, it means you gave them a reason to.”

I couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t even believe him.

“I’m asking you why you treat me like I’m disposable, I am telling you that your action today hurt me and this is all you have to say?”

He set his glass down. “What else do you want me to say? Elara, you are too weak and emotionally demanding. Do you know that?”

The words didn’t register at first.

“What?”

“You want constant attention, constant reassurance, constant validation, you literally drain me and you wonder why I am like this?”

“I drain you…”

“Yes. You’re beginning to feel like a liability.”

The words drained the small colour left in my face.

“But I love you, Sabastine. All I have done is love you.”

“That’s the problem. Love isn’t practical and you expect me to prioritize feelings over reality.”

“So what am I suppos

ed to do with all these emotions? Stop feeling?”

“Maybe that would help.”

I stepped back and hit the wall, my legs had suddenly grown weak.

“You don’t even like me, do you?”

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t want me!

I gave you everything. My youth, my loyalty, my silence. I built my life around you.”

“That was your choice, I didn’t force you. Don’t make it my burden.”

Burden, liability, emotionally demanding… What else did he have in mind? I suddenly felt empty and my will to fight or even just talk vanished completely.

…