Chapter 1 - A Marriage That Never Began

Claire Lowe comes home alone on her father's birthday.

Her mom notices immediately. She looks past Claire toward the door, waits a second longer than necessary, then exhales.

"So...he didn't come."

Claire drops her bag and slips out of her heels.

"Why would he? Ethan's busy. He's always busy."

It isn't sarcasm. It's just the truth.

She hasn't seen her husband in almost a month. No dinners. No messages. No explanations. Telling him about her dad's birthday would only turn into an awkward pause she doesn't have the energy to survive.

Her mom hesitates. "Claire, he's your husband. This matters."

Claire pours herself a glass of water and leans against the counter.

"Mom. You know this was never a love story. I married up. Way up."

Her mom winces. "But love can grow. You've been married three years. There has to be something."

Claire lets out a quiet laugh.

"Who told you marriage guarantees love?"

Ethan and she live in completely different worlds. Different money. Different rules. Different air. The only thing they share is a legal document and a last name.

The Lowe family runs half of North City's business scene. Old money. Closed doors. People who never ask for prices. Ethan is the second son—not the favorite—but even the spare heir lives a life she would never touch on her own.

The way they got married is absurd enough to sound fake.

Years ago, Ethan's grandfather fell in love with a woman he couldn't marry. Decades later, after his wife passed and his children grew up, he ran into her again by accident.

That woman was Claire's grandmother.

By the time her grandmother was dying, the families had grown unexpectedly close. Old regrets resurfaced. Promises were hinted at. Somewhere in the middle of that mess, Claire became part of the solution.

She agreed to the marriage for one very simple reason.

Ethan was tall. Infuriatingly handsome. Obscenely rich.

At twenty-three, Claire didn't believe in soulmates. Marriage was a deal. This one came with money, security, and children who would never have to apologize for where they came from.

Love had never been part of the plan.

She thought she was hitting the jackpot.

Ethan looked like someone who had just lost a court case.

The moment he realized the marriage was unavoidable, the politeness disappeared. He stopped pretending. Stopped meeting her eyes. Walked past her like she was part of the furniture.

She noticed the warning signs.

She chose to ignore them.

The wedding itself was quiet. Almost secretive.

Ethan showed up, smiled for photos, stayed less than thirty minutes, then left.

Claire stood alone in her champagne-colored dress while members of the Lowe family whispered behind their glasses.

"If I were her, I'd drown myself."

"Marrying up is basically slow torture."

"Didn't Ethan want Sophia Shen?"

Claire heard every word.

At the time, she told herself love could grow. That effort mattered. That time softened everything.

It didn't.

The apartment they shared technically belonged to both of them. In reality, it was hers. Ethan rarely came home. He appeared on holidays like a guest fulfilling an obligation.

Six months into the marriage, his older brother—the original heir—died suddenly.

Everything shifted.

Ethan stepped into a position no one had expected him to hold. The family's tone sharpened overnight. Claire once overheard his mother say, calm and cutting, "You must be thrilled. Funny how things work out."

That was when Claire understood something important.

Ethan had never been loved here.

Neither had she.

She became a convenient scapegoat. Bad timing. Bad luck. A walking omen no one wanted around.

At first, Ethan ignored it. In his mind, this was the cost of the life she chose.

Then, gradually, Claire began stepping in front of him. Redirecting the tension. Taking the hits so he didn't have to.

And occasionally...he did the same for her.

That was all it took.

By the second year of their marriage, Claire was already in trouble.

She had fallen in love with him.

And from that moment on, she was losing.

Her expectations changed. Her emotions followed him. She started looking forward to holidays. Listening for the door. Pretending she didn't care.

He never noticed.

Claire sighs deeply, barely finishing it, when her phone rings. The caller ID makes her freeze. Ethan Lowe.

Her husband calls her maybe once every few months. At most.

Her chest lifts for half a second. She answers.

"Ms. Lowe," Ethan says, his voice cold. "Was this really necessary?"

Ms. Lowe. That formal, distant tone he reserves for everything outside formalities.

"What...necessary?" she asks, confused.

"You go to my grandfather for everything," he says. "Don't you know his health isn't what it used to be?"

"Your father's birthday, you didn't tell me. How would I know?"

A familiar sense of injustice coils in her stomach.

"You're saying I complained to Grandpa because you didn't come?"

He scoffs. "I'm gone a month, you get lonely, and suddenly it's tattling?"

Claire grips the phone tighter. She can't answer.

Then, faintly, another voice: a woman, soft.

"Ethan, don't be mad. Want me to play another piece?"

Claire can't help asking, "...Who's with you?"

A low chuckle. "Sorry, not your business," he says. The call ends.

She knows anyway. Sophia Shen. The woman he's liked all along. Back when Ethan was second son, it didn't matter. Now...he's the heir. And she fits him perfectly.

That night, he sends a video of their Maple Ridge living room. Then a voice message.

[Ms. Lowe, I'm home. Satisfied? Now stop running to my grandfather.]

Once, she would have rushed home. Packed. Smiled. Thrilled. Now, she feels...tired.

She replies with one words, [Okay.]

A few minutes later, [Ms. Lowe, that's it?]

She types, [What do you want me to say? Everything I say is wrong anyway.]

Finally,

then stay quiet.

She puts the phone down, silent, and doesn't reply.

She stays at her mother's house for three days. Her childhood home feels safe. Softer. She even admits, I don't want to see him.

At noon, Ethan calls again. She hesitates before picking up—seconds matter.

"What's going on? Why did it take so long?" His tone is sharp.

She says nothing.

He clicks his tongue. "I'll hang up if you're not talking. You've been acting distant since yesterday. Expecting me to comfort you is a bit much, don't you think?"

Claire exhales. "If you're busy, go on your trip. I'll stay with my mom."

"...Fine." He hangs up.

Three days pass. She finally returns, assuming he's gone. He isn't.

She's cooking dinner alone, four simple dishes, slow and deliberate. Sunset spills across the lawn. She's used to eating alone. Isolation feels...familiar.

He enters. Silent. Observing.

So she thought I left. Regret it now?

He clears his throat.

Claire looks up, briefly caught in his gaze. Sharp, pale, arrogant. Still infuriatingly good-looking.

He sits. "Still staring?"

She lowers her eyes, grips her chopsticks.

"This is enough food?" he asks, glancing at the table.

"Yes," she mutters.

"Right," he smirks. "You weren't born for luxury."

She thinks, Neither were you.

Silence stretches.

"Why aren't you talking?" he asks. Then, "I don't want these. The veggie noodles last time...fine."

Normally, she'd immediately start cooking.

Instead, she instructs housemaid, "Make noodles with greens for him."

Ethan interrupts, "Forget it. Not that hungry."

He glares. "Is this about your father's birthday? Sulking for what?"

She meets his gaze. "Cooking isn't my duty. Nor is asking questions."

His jaw tightens. He turns to leave.

"Sophia Shen," Claire calls.

He stops.

"What is your relationship?"

He laughs, amused. "Cooking's not your duty. Neither is that question."

Claire opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Their marriage looks perfect outside. Inside, it's rotten.

"Remember how we married?" he says. "You insisted—low profile, no interference, no demands."

She did. And he remembered. He's hated her quietly all along.

Claire feels hollow. Peaceful coexistence, she thought. But even that is impossible.

---

Two weeks later, Ethan appears at Sophia's birthday gala.

Friends tease. "A married man with singles? Where's your wife?"

"Divorce her already!"

Ethan leans back lazily. "Divorce? Never. She wouldn't leave."

"Seems she likes you."

He smirks. "Fake affection."

Claire watches the videos later on social media. Sophia in white, radiant. Ethan beside her, black suit, smile faint. Perfect.

He stays for hours at the party. At their wedding, he couldn't last thirty minutes.

Claire laughs softly. I married up. A sparrow pretending to be a phoenix. No more.

She checks her reflection. Still young. Still pretty.

Not wasting my life here.

She types, decisive.

[We should get divorced.]

Three years taught her something. She got paid. She quits. She's done.