Chapter 3

ELARA'S POV 

He stood there in the rain looking lost, like a child who couldn't find his way home. I hated that it affected me. I hated that some traitorous part of me wanted to reach out to him.

"Three years," I said, my voice shaking. "I spent three years trying to be enough for you. Do you know what that feels like? To live with someone who looks through you like you're invisible?"

"I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, but—"

"You're right. It's not enough." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the jacket I was wearing. "You want to understand? Fine. I'll tell you exactly who you were."

Damien's face was pale, water dripping from his hair. He looked nothing like the man I'd signed divorce papers with. That man had been composed, distant, untouchable. This man looked like he was barely holding himself together.

"When we met, you were different. Warm. Attentive. You pursued me like I was the only person in the world. You asked about my work, my dreams, what made me happy. You made me believe in fairy tales." I laughed bitterly. "The wedding was beautiful. Your mother hated me from the start, but I thought it didn't matter because we had each other."

"What changed?"

"You did. The day after our honeymoon, you went back to work and never really came home again. You'd stay at the office until midnight, sometimes later. When you were home, you were on your phone or your laptop. I'd try to talk to you and you'd give me one-word answers. I'd make dinner and you'd eat while reading reports."

He flinched. Good. Let him hurt.

"I tried everything. I dressed up for you. I planned dates. I learned to cook your favorite foods. Nothing worked. You treated me like an assistant, not a wife. Actually, no. You were kinder to your assistants."

"Elara—"

"I'm not finished." The words were pouring out now, three years of silence breaking open. "Your mother made comments about my background, how I wasn't sophisticated enough for the Cross family. Your brother Julian made inappropriate remarks and you never defended me. Your father ignored me completely. And you? You stood by and let it happen."

"I wouldn't—"

"You did. You absolutely did. Because you didn't care enough to stop them." I wiped rain from my face, or maybe tears. I couldn't tell anymore. "The worst part was that you gave me just enough hope to keep me trapped. Every few months, usually late at night after you'd been drinking, you'd come to me. You'd make love to me like I mattered. You'd hold me and I'd think maybe, finally, you remembered you had a wife who loved you."

His hands clenched at his sides. "And in the morning?"

"In the morning, you were a stranger again. Cold. Distant. Like those nights never happened."

The rain was coming down harder now. We should go inside, but I couldn't move. Three years of words were finally finding their way out.

"I lost myself in that marriage. I quit my job because your family said it was inappropriate. I stopped seeing my friends because I had nothing to say that wasn't pathetic. I existed in this beautiful penthouse feeling like a ghost." My voice broke. "Do you know what it's like to be married and completely alone?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I don't want your apologies." I stepped back, creating distance between us. "You want to know what happened at the end? You called me into your office. You had divorce papers ready. You explained calmly that the marriage had run its course, that you'd been generous with the settlement. You had a flight to catch, so if I could sign quickly, you'd appreciate it."

Damien's face went white. "I said that?"

"Word for word. You thanked me for being reasonable. Then you reminded me to leave my key card at the front desk on my way out." I smiled without humor. "That was the last thing you said to me. Not goodbye. Not I'm sorry. A reminder about a key card."

"Jesus Christ." He looked like he might be sick.

"So now you know. You were cruel, Damien. Not because you hit me or screamed at me. Because you just didn't care. And somehow that was worse."

"Let me make it right."

"Make it right?" I stared at him. "You can't make it right. You can't give me back three years of my life. You can't undo the damage."

"I'm not that person anymore."

"You don't even remember being that person. That's not the same as changing." I turned toward the gallery door. "Go back to New York. Forget you found me. I already forgot you."

"That's a lie."

I froze. He was right, it was a lie. I wished it wasn't.

"I read a letter I wrote to you. Two years into our marriage. I told you I was falling in love with you but I was scared. I promised to try harder." His voice was rough. "I never sent it. I was too much of a coward."

"I don't care about a letter you never sent. I care about the three years you made me feel worthless."

"I know. And I can't fix that. But I can promise you I'm not that man anymore. The accident, the amnesia, it's like I got a second chance. I can see clearly now what I couldn't see then."

"Good for you." I opened the gallery door. "Use your second chance somewhere else. I'm done being your redemption story."

"Elara, please—"

"No." I looked back at him one last time. "You want to know the saddest part? I would have done anything for you. Anything. And you couldn't even bother to love me back."

I walked inside and locked the door behind me. Through the glass, I watched him stand there in the rain for a long moment before finally walking away.

My assistant Maya rushed over. "Are you okay? Who was that?"

I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. "No one."

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

“I know I have no right to ask, but please don't block this number. I need you to know something. I found that letter I wrote. I was in love with you. I just didn't know how to show it. I'm sorry I learned too late." 

I stared at the message, my hands shaking.

Maya touched my arm. "Elara? What's wrong?"

"He says he loved me." My voice came out as a whisper. "After everything, he says he loved me.”