Chapter 4

One week had crawled by like a lifetime. When the discharge papers were finally signed, Selin walked out of the hospital alone. During those seven days of recovery, the silence in her room had been deafening. There were no visits from Noah, no flowers, and no home-cooked meals.

She had survived on the bland, lukewarm hospital porridge brought by the nurses—food that kept her alive but left her spirit malnourished and her body frail.

While the world moved on, Selin had sat in her sterile bed, scrolling through her phone until she saw it a post from Rach Jayem.

#He bought me a necklace worth millions.

#The Perfect Man.

The photo showed Rach glowing, a diamond serpent coiled around her neck.

Beside her stood Noah, his arm draped protectively around her waist—the same arm that should have been supporting Selin as she learned to walk again after losing their child.

A bitter laugh escaped Selin’s cracked lips.

In five years of marriage, Noah had never bought her a diamond. Her most prized possession was a simple wire ring he’d bought from a street vendor on a whim.

She had cherished it because it came from him, but now she realized she had been worshiping a man who treated her like an afterthought while treating another woman like a queen.

"I was here," she whispered to the empty room, tears blurring her vision.

"I was right here, and he forgot I existed."

The realization didn't come with a bang, but with a cold, hollow snap.

She was done.

If Noah wanted to be Rach’s "perfect man," she would let him. She was finished being the obedient, invisible housewife.

She dialed her lawyer with a trembling hand.

"Prepare the divorce papers," she said, her voice turning to ice. "Immediately. I want them ready for the family dinner with Mrs. Miller."

Thinking of Mrs. Miller—the only person in that cold family who had ever truly loved her—sent a pang of guilt through Selin’s chest.

But she knew that staying in this marriage wasn't just a sacrifice anymore it was a slow suicide.

For the first time in five years, Selin was going to give Noah a gift—his freedom.

Weeks passed. The physical wounds healed, but the hollow space in Selin’s heart only grew larger.

The first place she went upon her full recovery wasn't home, but a high-end baby boutique.

"I want the most expensive items you have," Selin told the saleslady, her voice ghost-thin.

The woman smiled warmly, gesturing to a handcrafted silk gown.

"This is beautiful, Miss. It’s designed so that as your child grows, the fabric can be adjusted. She’ll be able to wear it for a long time."

Selin’s gaze fixed on the tiny, empty sleeves.

"She won't grow up," she replied.

The saleslady’s smile faltered, the air in the room suddenly heavy with the weight of Selin’s reddish, grief-stricken eyes. Realization dawned on her, and the professional mask dropped into one of pure, raw empathy.

"I... I am so sorry, Ma'am."

"I'll take it," Selin said, clutching the silk to her chest.

Later, at a quiet corner of the cemetery, Selin stood before a small, fresh plot of earth.

She had requested a private service for the baby she never got to hold.

She knelt in the dirt, pressing the expensive silk dress against her heart as if she could transfer her warmth through the fabric to the cold ground below.

"I'm sorry, my love," she sobbed, her voice breaking into a husky, jagged ruin.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

The stonemason stood nearby, cap in hand, waiting respectfully.

"Miss... what name should we put on the tombstone?"

Selin looked at the grey sky, the wind catching her hair.

"Merve... Merve Sever," she whispered, naming the daughter who would only ever live in her dreams.

__

Selin chose to engrave the name Merve Sever on the cold marble. She stripped her husband’s name from her child’s memory, for a man so heartless did not deserve the title of "Father."

When she finally returned to the place she once called home, she was met not with a welcome, but with the jagged shards of a betrayal she hadn’t even fully imagined.

Through the cracked doorway, she overheard Rach laughing with her friends.

"I heard Noah is finally going to marry you," one friend gushed.

"He only married Selin because I was away," Rach’s voice was slick with pride.

"In five years, he never loved her. It was always me. And you want to know the best part? I was the one who ran her off the road. I watched her car flip twice. I just tapped my own car against a tree to play the victim."

Rach let out a dainty, cruel giggle.

"And last night? I slept in Noah’s bed. The bed that will officially be mine soon."

The air left Selin’s lungs. Her knees buckled, and she clutched her chest as the agony of the truth pulsed through her.

She tried to kill me.

She killed our baby.

Fueled by a sudden, desperate fire, Selin threw open the doors.

The room went silent. Rach turned, a mocking glint in her eyes, and stepped forward to dangle a gold heart pendant in Selin’s face.

"Noah gave me this," Rach whispered, her smile curving like a blade.

"That’s my mother’s..." Selin’s voice cracked.

"Give it back!"

She lunged for the heirloom the only thing she had left of her parents but Rach’s friends seized her arms, pinning her back.

Selin screamed, begging for the necklace, but Rach simply dropped it onto the hardwood floor and ground her six-inch heel into it.

The delicate gold snapped the locket shattered.

"No!" Selin’s scream was a raw, animal sound.

She collapsed to the floor, her fingers trembling as she tried to gather the broken pieces, trying to fit them back together as if she could mend her own life.

"Girls, throw this trash out," Rach commanded.

"How dare you?" Selin’s voice deepened, vibrating with a cold, newfound rage.

"I am the legal wife."

"Let’s be clear," Rach sneered, leaning down to her ear.

"You are the unwanted wife. The unloved wife. The forgotten wife. I have always been the only woman he desired."

The words cut through Selin like a double-edged sword. But before

the women could drag her out, the front door heavy-thudded open. Noah stood there, his silhouette dark against the light.

"Let her go," he commanded.

He walked toward them, his brow furrowed as he looked at Rach.

"What are you doing? Don't make a scene here."

For a heartbeat, Selin thought he was protecting her.

He reached

down and offered her his hand. She took it, her voice thick with tears as she pointed at Rach.

"Noah... this woman tried to kill me. Our child is dead because of her! She just admitted it!"

Noah’s gaze shifted to Rach. "Is that true?"

"Of course she’s lying, Noah!" Rach cried, instantly shedding crocodile tears.

"She’s unstable. Why would I hurt myself just to hurt her?"

Selin looked at Noah, pleading with her eyes for him to believe her—just this once. But his face hardened into a mask of ice.

"Stop this nonsense," Noah snapped.

"I am your wife! I have never lied to you!" Selin cried.

"Shut up," he hissed, his voice freezing the blood in her veins.

"Shut up, or I will throw you out myself."

Selin nodded slowly, the last spark of hope in her heart flickering out.

She had nowhere else to go, no strength left to fight him tonight. She turned to go upstairs to her sanctuary, her bedroom, but his voice stopped her cold.

"From now on, Rach will stay in the master bedroom. You will move your things to the guest room."

Selin froze on the stairs. "What?"

"This is my house, Miss Selin," Noah said.

Miss Selin. He had already stripped her of his name.

"You have no decency," she whispered, a ghostly, horrified smile spreading across her face.

“You’re bringing your mistress into our bed while I’m still under this roof?"

"I don't care what you think," Noah replied.

"And you’ll be making our dinner tonight."

"Okay," Selin said, her voice eerily calm.

"I’ll do it."

She went to her room, but she didn't pack a suitcase. Instead, she gathered every photo of her and Noah, every memory of their wedding, and the cheap, pathetic gifts she had once treasured.

She carried the heavy brown box to the back of the house.

She struck a match.

The fire caught quickly, licking at the edges of their wedding portraits.

As the flames grew, reflecting in her hollow eyes, Selin watched her five years of devotion turn to ash.

"I gave you so many chances," she whispered into the smoke.

"But you let every one of them slip away. Now, I’m finally letting go. I will make you feel what it’s like to be torn apart."

She watched the cheap wire ring melt in the heat.

"This is the last time I will ever love you, Noah. I am burning it all away. And if there is a next life... I pray I never choose you again.”

____

“Once I sign these papers, I will leave,” Selin swore to herself, her eyes fixed on the flickering orange embers of her past.

“I will go abroad. I will reclaim the dreams I buried for the sake of a family that never existed. I will become the surgeon I was meant to be. I don't care if I have to start from the dust I will rise.”

She looked up at the moon, a ghost of a child’s prayer on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry for breaking the union you chose for me.

But he never loved me.

He never protected me the way you promised he would.

The man you called my husband became my monster.

He became my living nightmare.”

The words Rach had spat at her echoed in the silence of the yard, fueling her resolve:

The Unwanted Wife.

The Unloved Wife.

The Forgotten Wife.

The next morning, the sun rose on a different Selin.

She was in the kitchen, mechanically preparing breakfast for her husband and his mistress, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Are you Mrs. Selin Miller?” the courier asked, holding a professional-grade envelope.

“I am,” she replied, her voice steady.

“Please sign here. These are the legal documents you requested.”

Selin took the envelope into the quiet of the guest room. She reviewed the divorce papers with a clinical eye.

The terms were harsh, exactly as she had instructed her lawyer she would take nothing.

No alimony, no property, not a single cent of the Miller fortune.

For five years, Noah had treated her like a gold-digger, a parasite clinging to his wealth.

He had mistreated her, humiliated her, and ignored her, all because he believed she was only there for his money.

Now, she would give him the ultimate irony. She would grant him his freedom, but she would leave him with the one thing he didn’t expect her dignity.

She would walk away with nothing but her name, proving that he was never the prize—she was.

With a hand that did not shake, Selin picked up a pen.

She signed her name for the last time as a Miller, the ink bleeding into the paper like a final goodbye to the woman she used to be.