chapter 5

*Chapter 5: The Party

Tomorrow had arrived, and with it, a quiet fear that settled into Sandra’s chest like a stone.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts tangled and restless. Ryan’s words from yesterday echoed in her mind, sharp and cold.We’re ending this in three months. My debt has been paid off.

But then there was the other part. Get ready tomorrow. We’re going out.

What if it was another trap? What if this outing” was just another carefully staged way to humiliate her in front of people who mattered to him? What if he only wanted to remind her once more that she would never be the woman he loved?

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a reminder that time was slipping away. When it struck 4:00 PM sharp, the silence in the house shattered.

The bedroom door flew open.

Ryan stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. He didn’t even glance at her as he spoke.

Get yourself dressed. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.

Then the door clicked shut behind him.

For a second, Sandra didn’t move. The abruptness of it, the coldness of it it was so typical of him. No please. No are you ready? Just an order, delivered and expected to be obeyed.

But beneath the irritation, something small and fragile stirred inside her. Happiness.

It was ridiculous, she knew. It was irrational. But the thought of walking beside him, even for an hour, even if it was all an act it made her heart flutter like it hadn’t in years. The idea of pretending, just for one evening, that they were a real husband and wife.

She sat up slowly, pushing the doubts aside. Maybe this time is different. Maybe this time he actually wants me there.

Sandra hurried to her wardrobe and pulled out the red mini dress she’d bought months ago but never had a reason to wear. It was bold. Confident. The color made her skin glow.

Standing in front of the mirror, she smoothed the fabric over her waist and studied her reflection. I hope this is good enough for him. I hope this fits his standard.

The thought made her stomach twist, but she ignored it. She brushed her hair until it fell in soft waves over her shoulders, slipped into her black high heels, and applied a touch of lipstick.

When she was done, she took one last look at herself and whispered, You look beautiful, Sandra. Even if he doesn’t notice.”

She rushed downstairs, the sound of her heels echoing through the quiet hallway.

Ryan was waiting in the foyer, his back turned to her. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his posture as sharp and controlled as always.

When he heard her footsteps, he turned.

And for the first time in two years, he stopped.

His eyes raked over her from head to toe, lingering on the red dress that hugged her frame, on the way her hair fell over her shoulder, on the way she carried herself with a quiet confidence she hadn’t had in months.

Sandra came to a stop in front of him, her heart pounding.

Ryan blinked, as if pulled out of a daze. He ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture that betrayed how thrown off he was.

What’s so precious about her that my Jasmine doesn’t have?” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Sandra didn’t hear the words. But she saw the way his jaw tightened. The way his gaze flickered, conflicted, before it hardened again.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the door. Let’s go.

Sandra followed, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The small spark of hope she’d felt dimmed slightly, but she held onto it. Maybe he’s just surprised. Maybe he didn’t expect me to look like this.

Five minutes later, the car pulled up in front of a one-story building on the edge of the city. It was decorated with warm lights and fresh flowers, the entrance bustling with people in expensive suits and elegant gowns. Laughter and music spilled out from the open doors.

Sandra’s breath caught. It looked like a celebration. A party.

Ryan stepped out first and reached back for her hand. His touch was firm, but not unkind. Sandra hesitated for only a second before placing her hand in his.

For once in her life with Ryan, she felt… alive. Like she wasn’t invisible. Like she mattered.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne. Conversations hummed in the air. The scent of expensive perfume and fine food filled the room.

Ryan moved through the crowd with ease, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. Sandra followed half a step behind him, her hand still in his.

He stopped in front of an older man with silver hair and a warm smile. The man was clearly the chairman of the event.

Ryan bowed slightly, a sign of respect. Sandra followed his lead, bowing her head as well.

This must be your wife, the chairman said, his smile widening as he looked at Sandra. You look so familiar. You look just like someone from the Grants family.

Sandra’s heart skipped a beat. The Grants family. One of the most prestigious and wealthy families in the country. The family she’d been born into before she lost everything.

Ryan’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. His eyes shot to her, sharp and warning.

Sandra forced a composed smile and met the chairman’s gaze. Oh, thank you. But I’m actually not from the Grants family. Maybe you mistook me for someone else.

Ryan cut in smoothly, his tone casual but deliberate. Yeah. She’s just from a normal family. Nothing like the Grants family. Not wealthy. Not high-class.

The words hit Sandra like a slap.

Not wealthy. Not high-class.

The room seemed to tilt for a second. The laughter around her faded into a dull ringing in her ears.

I should just know my place, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. He didn’t take me out because he wants to. He’s only doing this because I begged for it. Because he feels obligated.

The chairman immediately apologized for the misunderstanding and gestured for them to take a seat. Please, enjoy the evening. The food is excellent.”

Sandra nodded stiffly and sat down beside Ryan, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

For the rest of the evening, she sat in silence.

Ryan mingled with other CEOs, laughing, drinking, talking business like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t introduce her to anyone. He didn’t acknowledge her presence beyond the occasional glance to make sure she was still seated beside him.

Sandra stared at her untouched glass of water, her mind a storm of emotions. Shame. Anger. Sadness. But mostly, exhaustion.

Why did I even get dressed up? Why did I even hope?

The party dragged on, and with each passing minute, Sandra felt herself shrinking smaller and smaller in her seat.

Finally, it was over.

The car ride back was silent. Ryan was drunk, leaning heavily against the car window, his eyes half-closed. The city lights outside blurred past in streaks of color.

When they reached the mansion, Sandra helped him out of the car. He was heavy, stumbling slightly as they made their way inside.

The house was silent. Everyone had gone to bed.

Sandra led him to his bedroom and carefully laid him down on the bed. His tie was loosened, his jacket discarded on the floor. He looked vulnerable like this. Human.

Sandra turned to leave, her heart heavy with the weight of the evening.

But before she could take a step, Ryan’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

Sandra gasped as he pulled her back, and she fell onto the bed beside him.

She lay there, frozen, her heart racing. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel it the warmth of his touch, the closeness of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol.

Ryan’s eyes were half-closed, his breathing uneven. He stared at her face, his gaze hazy and unfocused.

Jasmine…he whispered, his voice low and slurred.

The word struck Sandra like a knife.

Her heart shattered.

He mistook me for Jasmine.

The realization hit her like a wave of ice water, washing away every last bit of warmth she’d felt tonight. Every flicker of hope. Every fragile moment of happiness.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t. Not here. Not like this.

She lay still under him, her body tense, her mind screaming at her to get up, to pull away, to run.

But she didn’t.

Because some part of her the part that had loved him for two years, the part that still hoped, despite everything wanted to believe that for just one moment, he was choosing her.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if it was a lie.

Ryan’s hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with a gentleness she’d never felt from him before. Jasmine… I miss you…

Sandra closed her eyes, and the tears finally spilled over.