From Discarded Wife, Now the Untouchable Heiress

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~~ Hazel's POV ~~

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I had been planning this day for weeks.

Three years. Today marked exactly three years since I became Mrs. Damon Moretti. Three years of a marriage that was supposed to change everything and instead had slowly, quietly, broken me in ways I didn't know a person could break.

But today, I had decided, would be different.

I woke up early and spent the entire afternoon preparing the house. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted him to come home and see how much I still cared. I wanted him to finally look at me the way he looked at his phone. The way he looked at his work. The way he looked at literally anything except me.

The dining room had been my first project. I pulled out the good linens, the ones we never used because he said they were pretentious. I arranged fresh white roses in a crystal vase and placed it in the center of the table. The silverware was polished to a shine. The wine glasses caught the light just right. I even lit candles, expensive ones that smelled like vanilla and amber.

By the time I moved to the kitchen, I was already sweating.

I had made pasta carbonara from scratch. His favorite. I knew every step of his preferences by heart. The bacon had to be crispy, not chewy. The eggs needed to be whisked perfectly so they coated the pasta without scrambling. The pecorino cheese had to be the expensive kind from the Italian market downtown. I had learned through three years of trial and error exactly what would make him say "Yes, that's good." without looking up from whatever was occupying his attention.

The whole house smelled like garlic and butter and hope.

I changed clothes three times before settling on an elegant blue dress that I had bought specifically for today. It was the color he had once, years ago, said looked nice on me. That was in the first year of our marriage when I still believed compliments meant something. When I still thought that if I tried hard enough, loved him deeply enough, gave enough of myself, he would eventually love me back.

By the time I heard his car pulling into the driveway, my heart was racing.

I stood in the kitchen with my hands clasped in front of me, trying to appear casual even though I had spent all day preparing for this moment. I heard the front door open. The sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

When Damon walked into the kitchen, I forced myself to smile.

He looked good. He always looked good these past few days. The black shirt he wore was tailored perfectly, fitting across his broad shoulders in a way that made people look twice when he passed. His hair was styled with what must have been hair product because it caught the light differently than usual. His watch was polished to a shine. And in his hand was a small elegant gift bag with a silver ribbon.

My heart jumped.

A gift. He had brought me a gift.

"You're home," I said softly, moving toward him. "Happy anniversary. I made your favorite. Pasta carbonara with extra crispy bacon, just the way you like it."

I gestured toward the dining room, toward all the effort I had poured into this day.

He didn't even look at the food.

He dropped the gift bag on the counter like it weighed nothing and headed straight to the wine shelf. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass without offering me anything.

"Not hungry," he muttered.

My stomach clenched.

"The gift." I said, stepping closer to the counter to reach for it. "Is it mine?"

"No! Don't touch it." Damon shrieked loudly, I almost stumbled backwards.

"Okay calm down. Who is it for?" I asked, hearing the way my voice had become smaller. Trying to make it bigger again. "It looks really nice. I can wrap it better if you want. I can make it look even more special."

He took a long sip of his whiskey and set the glass down on the counter harder than necessary.

"None of your business, Hazel."

The words were flat. Cold. The kind of cold that came from someone who wasn't even trying to hide their indifference anymore.

I had heard him say worse things. But something about the way he said it, the way he didn't even meet my eyes, made something inside me crack open.

"You've been bringing home gifts a lot lately," I said, and I could hear the uncertainty creeping into my voice. "And you've been dressing up more. You're acting different. Is there something I should know that you're not telling me?"

He turned around slowly, and his eyes were narrow. The kind of narrow that meant he was irritated. The kind of narrow that meant I had asked something I shouldn't have.

"What exactly is your problem?" he asked.

"I'm just asking," I said. I could feel tears starting to form behind my eyes but I forced them back. "You never buy gifts anyone, not even me or the girls you hook up with. You never care enough to dress up for them. So who is this one you're being so intentional with?"

He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. Just irritation and something that might have been contempt.

"You really don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?" He stepped closer to me, and I had to force myself not to step back. "I've asked you for a divorce so many times, Hazel. So many fucking times. And every time you said no. You wanted to play house. You wanted to stay and suffer. So now you get to watch. Mind your own damn business and leave me the hell alone."

The words landed like physical blows.

He grabbed the gift bag from the counter and walked out of the kitchen without another word. The sound of his footsteps going upstairs felt like nails dragging across my heart.

I stood there alone, staring at the pasta that was probably cold by now. The carefully cooked bacon. The eggs that I had whisked with such care. The whole meal that I had prepared with the hope that today would be different.

It was never going to be different.

He was never going to change.

And I was never going to be enough.

Fresh tears burned in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here in the kitchen where he might come back down and see me like this. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and started cleaning up like nothing had happened. Because that was what I always did. I kept hoping. I kept loving a man who clearly didn't want my love. I kept trying to be the woman he wanted me to be, even though I was starting to realize that no version of me was ever going to be enough.

But deep down, something was shifting inside me. A quiet voice that I had ignored for three years was starting to speak louder.

And maybe, finally, it was time to listen.

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and called Sophia.

She answered on the second ring, and the moment I heard her voice, I broke.

"Hazel? Oh my god, what's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"It's our anniversary today," I said, and my voice was completely broken. "I spent the whole day preparing. I made his favorite food. I decorated the entire house. I wore the dress he once said looked nice on me. And he came home with a gift. A beautiful gift with a silver ribbon."

"That sounds nice," Sophia said carefully. "Did he..."

"It wasn't for me," I interrupted. "The gift wasn't for me. He told me it was none of my business and then when I asked if he was seeing someone. He didn't say anything, he didn't confirm it or deny it. I think he actually is seeing someone now."

I could hear Sophia's sharp intake of breath on the other end.

"Hazel, I'm so sorry," she said.

"The worst part," I continued, and now I was really crying, "is that I'm not even surprised anymore. Three years of this. Three years of trying to make him love me. Three years of cooking and cleaning and defending him to my family and staying up late when he was stressed and giving him everything I had. And he still looks at me like I'm invisible."

"You need to sign those papers," Sophia said firmly. "Like right now. Tonight."

"I don't know if I can," I whispered.

"You can," she said. "And you will. Because you deserve so much better than this. You deserve to be with someone who sees you. Someone who values you. Someone who doesn't need to be begged to love you."

"I think I need to find out the mysterious lady he is being intentional about. What do you think."

Sophia signed deeply and I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "Hazel, you need to give this up. Divorce that man and clear your mind off all these. Finding out who the woman is won't change anything."

"I know but..."

"There's no but. Just sign the papers." Sophia cut in.

" Okay fine. I will."

I sat still for a long time after we hung up, I knew Sophia was right. Finding out who that woman was isn't going to change anything but I just couldn't get the feeling to know who is getting the attention I have been begging my husband for these last three years put of my head.

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