Chapter 2 Broken

Lyssa POV

I blame myself for never stop loving him. How could I have been so blind, so persistent in holding onto a love that was never mine to begin with?

My mind reels back to that conversation we had right before our wedding. He made it so clear then, didn’t he? “You know about Isabella. I love her. I’ve always loved her. If she ever comes back… I would marry her in a heartbeat.” His words had sliced through me even then, but I nodded, pretending it didn’t hurt, pretending I could handle being second best because at least I got to be with him while she was away.

I thought three years would change his feelings for her. I convinced myself that time had eroded his feelings for her, that our life together, the routines, the quiet intimacies had made him choose me instead.

How foolish I was to believe that. Foolish to think a forced marriage could rewrite his heart. Now, as he stands there, mentioning her name.

I see the truth, I was just a placeholder, a temporary fix until the real love of his life returned. The realization burns, a hurt spreading through my chest, making it hard to breathe.

My thoughts drift further back, to when we were little.

Zeta was fifteen then, the golden boy of the family and college. Isabella had been there before I even came into the picture. I’ve heard the stories, seen them together from old family photo albums.

Their love started innocently enough, in the sun-drenched summers at the family estate as kids.

Zeta would bring her flowers he’d picked himself, and she’d wear them in her hair. By the time they were in high school, their feelings for each other grew serious, prom dates, promises of forever.

Everyone knew they were meant to be; before Isabella’s family moved her abroad for better opportunities.

Then I came into the picture. Before she traveled, I remember watching them from my bedroom window, the way he’d lean in to kiss her, how she’d giggle and pull him closer. Even as a child, something twisted in my gut, a jealousy I didn’t understand yet.

As I grew older, that feeling turned into love, unrequited and hidden.

Remembering it now, how I will watch the man I love be with another woman, shatters my heart even more. It wasn’t just envy; it was a preview of this very moment, the pain of knowing he never loved me as he loved her.

To love is not a crime right? Love is supposed to be pure, a gift, not something that leaves you hollowed out and broken. But here I am, paying the price for it. I loved him quietly, fiercely, from our sibling-like bond into the facade of our marriage.

And for what? To end up discarded.

I think back to that lie I told him, right after Grandfather announced the arrangement.

“Lyssa, you don’t have to do this. I see you as my sister. nothing more. If it’s too weird, we can find a way out.” And I, terrified of losing him altogether, had smiled and said, “It’s fine, Zeta. I see you as a brother too. This is just for Grandfather. If you ever want a divorce, just let me know.”

A betrayal of my own heart.

Now, those words I’d said hurts. It hurts so bad, like a wound ripped open after years of careful bandaging.

He believed me, all this time. He thought my affection was platonic, that our marriage was a mutual convenience.

Today has been the worst day of my life, and it’s my birthday, of all days.

Twenty-five years old, and instead of celebration, I’m facing the end of everything I hold dear.

Acting strong, I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. And then he breaks the silence.

“Come let’s have lunch.”

“I’m not hungry. I ate a few minutes ago.” I say. But It’s a lie, of course.

I’ve been waiting all morning to eat with my husband on this special day. But right now, the appetite has vanished, replaced by a nausea that twists my stomach into knots.

The thought of sitting across from him, pretending everything is fine, is unbearable.

Just as I’m about to head out to my room, I take a step forward but a wave of dizziness crashes over me. My vision blurs, my legs buckle, and I stumble, reaching out blindly for support.

Before I reach the ground, strong arms catch me immediately, Zeta’s hands as he pulls me against his chest. “Lyssa? Are you okay? Are you sick?”

His concern pierces through the haze, but I push it away, righting myself with effort. “I’m fine,” I murmur. “It’s just stress. Nothing more.”

He doesn’t let go right away, his grip firm but gentle.

For a split second, I want to lean into it, to let him hold me like he has so many times before. But I can’t. Not anymore.

“You need to rest,” he says, his tone laced with that brotherly protectiveness I’ve known all my life. “Don’t overstress yourself, okay? You need your health to meet your Prince Charming soon.” He teases lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I force a smile in return. Prince Charming? The irony hurts, he’s standing right in front of me, and he’s slipping away from me.

Before I can speak, he pulls out his phone and dials a number I recognize all too well. “Dr. Harlan? It’s Zeta. Can you come over? Lyssa’s not feeling well. Yeah, as soon as possible. Thanks.”

He hangs up, slipping the phone back into his pocket, and looks at me with that same relieved expression from earlier. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I say. “We’re getting divorced soon. I’m grown and can handle myself. Besides, Isabella will be needing your time now. It’s time you get used to it.”

I don’t wait for his response as I let out a short smile and walk away.