Ch-2

Elara’s POV

“A…Adrian,” I mumbled in fear.

He stood at the doorway, scanning the room before landing his eyes on me and the small mess I had already created in the room.

His glare was as cold as ice.

“What are you doing here…? Who gave you the permission to be here?!” he thundered, his sharp voice laced with anger.

I stumbled back, my heart rattling in my chest as he stepped forward. His scowl only worsened with each inch he closed between us.

“I… I…” My throat tightened. The words hung in my mouth, refusing to come out.

“I asked you a question, Elara!” he barked, his deep voice echoing off the walls. “What are you doing here?”

I opened my mouth again, but only air rushed out. I wanted to apologize, to beg him not to get angry, or even lie that I got here by mistake.

But a glance at the messages in my memory snapped something in me.

I instantly straightened my back and lifted my chin, staring straight into his eyes, no longer willing to cower as I responded

“No,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m not the one who should be explaining.”

Adrian’s brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You tell me,” I spat. “Why are you here painting another woman behind my back? Why is our home decorated like how she would have wanted hers? Why have I been sleeping next to a man who sees me as nothing but a substitute?”

He didn't utter a word, his lips tightened as he stared at me like a ghost.

Letting out a dry, humorless laugh, I gestured to the largest portrait in the room. “You know something? For a second, I thought that was me. My heart skipped a beat when I saw it. I thought you had painted me. How delusional I must have been….”

“Elara….”

“Don’t!” I snapped, holding up my hand. “Don’t you dare say my name like you care!”

He stepped toward me again, reaching for my arm. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be in here.”

I jerked away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Elara!”

“Answer me!” I screamed, shoving him back. “Why did you marry me if you couldn’t love me?! Why did you stand at that altar, look me in the eyes, and promise a life when all you ever wanted was her?!”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, I saw a touch of guilt or maybe regret in his expression but it quickly vanished.

“It’s not that deep,” he mumbled. “You’re just overreacting.”

“Am I?!” I yelled. “Really? Because I read all your messages, Adrian. I know what you told Luke. That I’m beautiful but you can’t bring yourself to love me. That you only chose me because I look like Celine! I know it all…. Don't you dare look in my eyes and lie to my face!”

He went quiet. See

“I gave up everything for you,” I whispered, in a trembling voice. “My family. My legacy. My dignity. And all this time, you were just… trying to resurrect a ghost.”

Adrian shook his head and reached for me again, this time more forcefully. “You need to calm down.”

I swatted his hand away. “No, you need to stop pretending. You lied to me for six years!”

My eyes darted around the room, in a desperate, and broken way, until they landed on a red box on the shelf beside the dresser. I grabbed it without thinking, intending to throw it until I saw what it was.

A perfume bottle. Still in its case. My fingers trembled as I traced the satin fabric as I picked it up and turned it over. There, on the corner of the box, was a neatly folded note, half folded beneath the ribbon.

“Please, don't touch it.” he pleaded softly but I wasn't ready to listen to him.

It looked like a gift that never got to its recipient. The box had in it a card bearing her name, Celine.

A sob ripped from my throat as the final puzzle piece slid into place. I looked up at him slowly.

“So this was it?” I whispered. “You’ve been buying me her perfume all this while?”

Adrian exhaled sharply. “You didn’t have to wear it. I didn't force you.”

My eyes widened. “I didn’t have to? Adrian, you begged me to. You claimed it made you feel… close. I wore it for you, even though I hated the fragrance!”

I was shaking now, trembling with irritation and humiliation. My chest rose and fell erratically as tears spilled freely on my face.

I snapped, before I could control myself, I hurled the box against the wall, the perfume shattering into pieces.

I didn't stop. I reached for the closest canvas and slammed it to the floor.

“Elara, stop…!”

But I couldn’t. I grabbed another painting and ripped it down, tearing at the fabric like it had wronged me. The frame cracked against the floor.

“You used me, Adrian!” I screamed. “You used me to fill a hole in your soul!”

“Elara…”

“I gave you everything!” I cried. “My trust. My body. My heart. And all you ever saw was her.”

He didn’t stop me. He didn’t even flinch as I continued to destroy painting after painting. Even broke an expensive vase in the corner, he stood still.

And when I finally turned to him, sobbing, furious, and aching, he just stared at me.

Then, coldly, like none of it mattered, he straightened his sleeves and said, “If you’re done, I have to get to work.”

Just like that, he left me standing in a pile of shattered glass and broken illusions.