Eight Years Wasted, I Rejected His Proposal

“I’ll make room for her.”

I forced myself to breathe normally and turned away. A pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind. It was Jack.

He had always been calm and controlled, the kind of man who needed an air of authority to command his men. Even with me, he usually stayed reserved and distant. He rarely showed this kind of intimacy.

He moved around to face me while still holding me tightly, as though he feared I might run.

“I didn’t explain myself properly just now. I made you misunderstand. Eleanor, there’s nothing between Layla and me. We only have a marriage certificate. That’s all. I did it to help her. You’re the only woman I love.”

Jack usually stayed composed and untouchable. Seeing him desperately try to explain himself made his heartbeat press against my chest. I had been ready to walk away without looking back. My resolve slowly began to crumble.

The words let’s break up never left my lips.

We had been together for eight years. I had poured so much of myself into this relationship. In the end, I decided to give him one more chance, and myself one, too.

“I believe you. Now that you’ve helped her, when are you going to get a divorce?”

His arms loosened almost imperceptibly. I could not see his expression. After a long silence, he finally released me.

“Not yet. If she gets married and then divorces immediately, her parents will think she’s useless. They’ll make her life harder and force her into an arranged marriage anyway. If that happens, I will fail to help her, and I will make things worse.”

Something inside my chest seemed to crumple. My body trembled as tears streamed down my face.

“Then what am I supposed to do? Stay your mistress in the shadows forever?”

Jack stared at me with confusion. Irritation flickered across his face.

“How could you be a mistress? You’re the woman I truly love. Layla and I are only married by name. The moment she’s strong enough to stand up to her parents, I’ll divorce her. Eleanor, you’ve always been understanding, haven’t you? You can support me while I help Layla, can’t you?”

I suddenly found it almost laughable. This was what my years of being understanding had earned me.

Jack was the Godfather. If he truly wanted to help someone, he had a hundred different ways to do it.

He chose the one that hurt me the most. He never stopped to think about what this meant for me.

Slowly, I reached up and unclasped the necklace around my neck.

Jack rarely gave me gifts. This necklace was one of the few.

Back then, Jack was not the Godfather yet, and I was nobody important.

We had been walking around town together when the necklace caught my eye through a shop window.

I wanted it desperately, but I could not afford it. Jack brushed it off, pretending not to care, saying that it was only a necklace, and it was not like I could eat it.

Behind my back, he took on an incredibly dangerous job without telling me.

When he came home covered in injuries, he went straight out and bought me that necklace.

I had been so moved that I cried and begged him to take better care of himself.

In the years that followed, even when he grew cold toward me, even when he never mentioned marriage, I never held it against him. At least, not while I still had that necklace.

Now, he was married to another woman, and perhaps the necklace had served its purpose, too.

I clenched it tightly in my fist until the metal dug into my palm.

“Jack, we…”

The doorbell cut me off.