Chapter Two

Three years. That was how long she had been Mrs. Cole Harrington. Three years since she’d said “I do” on July 17th, 2021, standing in front of everyone she loved, believing with every fiber of her being that she had chosen a man who would never let her down.

They said marriage changed people, but Cole never seemed to change. He had always been the attentive husband, the charming partner who remembered anniversaries and called her “sunshine” when she was buried in her own shadows. If she hadn’t read that letter today, she might still have believed him. She might have chalked everything up to stress, to work, to a forgotten flower bouquet. A hectic week. An innocent mistake.

But the letter stripped the innocence away.

Her mind spun through every detail she had once ignored. The late nights. The unanswered calls. The perfume that clung to his shirt when he claimed he had been at the gym. The business trips. The way his smile had dimmed around her. Every excuse she’d swallowed now returned like bile rising in her throat.

And worse than Cole was the name written in the letter, the one that made her stomach hollow out in disbelief.

“Scarlett… Scarlett?” The word tore from her throat, thin and trembling.

Scarlett Vale. Her best friend. Her sister in everything but blood. The woman who had stood by her side through every storm, who had shared secrets, dreams, failures, and laughter. The person Selene would have trusted with her life. Loyal. Present. Constant. Until she wasn’t.

The memories came in flashes—Scarlett adjusting Cole’s tie with too much familiarity, their shared glances at dinner parties, the private jokes Selene hadn’t been invited into. How had she been so blind?

A pain bloomed in her chest, sharp and suffocating. Her breaths grew uneven. “How could you, Scarlett?” she whispered, as though the walls themselves might answer.

Somehow, she found herself in the living room, though she couldn’t recall walking there. Her body felt separate from her mind, moving on its own. On the coffee table sat the birthday mug Cole had once given her, filled with cold coffee. Beside it lay the letter, slipped from her hand when hope finally gave out.

She had studied that handwriting, desperate to find a hidden clue—anything to suggest it was fake, a mistake, a misunderstanding. But the ink was steady, deliberate.

Her mind fought to make her not believe what she'd read, playing out scenes where Cole had been the most magnificent husband. But, the truth couldn’t be disguised.

Her vision blurred. A voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

“Well, now that you know the truth, what are you going to do, Selene?”

Her head snapped up. Standing across the room was her mother.

Her heart stopped. Same deep brown skin. Same dark hair. Same sharp gaze. It was like staring into a mirror made wiser and stronger. Except her mother had died years ago.

“You’re not real,” Selene said, her voice unsteady.

“I’m your mother,” the woman replied with calm certainty.

“No. You died. You’re not real. This isn’t happening.” Selene shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“And you think if you repeat that, I’ll vanish? Magic, like smoke?” Her mother’s lips curved into a hard line. “I didn’t raise you to be this pathetic.”

Selene’s voice cracked as she shouted, “You didn’t raise me! You died!”

Her mother tilted her head, studying her as if she were a weak student failing a test. “And yet, here you are, clinging to a man who betrayed you. You call that strength?”

Selene flinched.

“Your husband,” the figure said, each word measured and cruel, “laid with your best friend.”

“Stop.”

“Say it.”

“Stop it!”

“You gave him everything, and he still chose someone else. You stayed loyal, and he repaid you with deceit.” Her tone sharpened, slicing through Selene’s defenses. “That is the truth you don’t want to face.”

Selene pressed her hands over her ears, rocking slightly, but the voice dug deeper, merciless.

“You’ve been blind, Selene. Blind and weak. And the longer you pretend otherwise, the longer you remain his fool.”

“No!” Her voice broke, but the denial rang hollow, even to her own ears.

The woman’s eyes blazed with something darker than anger. “Your husband betrayed you with Scarlett Vale. The only question left is what you’re going to do about it.”

“That’s not the truth! Stop it!” Selene panted, dragging her hands down her face and through her hair, her breath ragged.

“He fucked your best friend. He fucked your best friend!” The woman’s voice grew louder with each repetition, her finger stabbing the air, her head shaking sideways. “Your husband is a cheater. Open your eyes, Selene! Your husband is a cheater!”

“Stop saying that. Stop saying that…” she turned toward the woman, her eyes wild. “I said stop saying that!” she roared, grabbing the coffee mug and hurling it at the figure.

The crash echoed loudly. Coffee splattered, shards scattering across the floor.

Silence fell.

When Selene looked again, the woman was gone. Only the wreckage of the mug remained.

There was no one in the room.

She had thrown the mug at no one.

Her chest heaved as she stared at the mess, a tear slipping down her cheek. She forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly. This wasn’t the first time. The figure always appeared at her breaking points, taunting her, tearing her apart.

It wasn’t her mother—not really. She knew that much. It was something else. Someone else. A voice from deep within, one she never understood.

“You know the truth,” the voice said again.

Selene whipped her head to the side. The figure was back.

Her throat tightened.

“You know the truth,” the woman repeated, eyes piercing. “And yet you lie to yourself. I never raised you to be this fragile. You are weaker than I thought.” She gave Selene a long, cutting look. Then, with a small nod, she added, “But I’ll be back when you realize no one loves you as much as I do.”

Before Selene could reply, her phone rang. The sound jolted her. She turned to the table, and when she looked back—the figure was gone.

But the words lingered. They always did. No one loves you as much as I do.

It was always the same parting line, every time. Selene had never had the courage to ask what it meant. Now that she finally wanted to, the moment had been stolen, interrupted by the sound of her phone, still ringing.

Her hand shook as she reached for the phone, sliding to answer without checking the screen.

“Hey, hey, hey, anniversary lady!” Scarlett’s bright voice burst into her ear, cheerful and light.

Selene froze, her body rigid.

“Selene? Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice a whisper.

“You okay? You sound… off.”

“I’m just tired. Overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Scarlett’s concern carried through the line. “Do we need to get you to a hospital?”

“No. I’ll be fine. I just need rest.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

A pause. Then Scarlett’s tone turned playful. “I was thinking I could swing by and bring your meds since Cole’s not around. You know I don’t mind.”

“No,” Selene interrupted quickly. “I’ll manage.” She forced steadiness into her tone. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

“Of course! The restaurant downtown, right? I wouldn’t miss it. Three whole years with the most handsome, charming husband. Oh, Selene, you’re lucky. To be loved by Cole Harrington…” Scarlett let out a dreamy laugh.

Selene’s grip on the phone tightened. The sound scraped against her nerves.

“Thank you,” she said softly. After a pause, she asked, “Scar… irises are still your favorite flowers, aren’t they?”

Scarlett chuckled. “Always. You know that. Irises are forever my favorite. That’s what makes us funny—me loving them, you being allergic. Remember?”

Selene forced a laugh, brittle and thin. “I never forgot.”

Before Scarlett could continue, a deep masculine voice cut through the line from her end. “Who are you talking to?”

Selene's ears heard it right. That was no doubt. For a long second, silence filled the space between them.

“Scarlett?” Selene said carefully.

“I’m here,” Scarlett answered quickly. “Sorry. That was just… Yeshua, my manager.” She spoke the name too fast, too forced, as if she had plucked it from thin air.

Another beat of silence, then Scarlett’s voice brightened, almost artificially. “Well, I’ve got work to finish. Art doesn’t make itself, and the music won’t play on its own. See you tonight, Selene!”

“See you tonight,” Selene echoed.

The line clicked off. Selene held the phone a moment longer, her reflection caught in the black screen. Scarlett’s words still echoed repeatedly to her.

She knew that voice. She knew it like her own name.

And it definitely wasn't Yeshua’s.