Chapter 2: The Question

The makeup artist was still staring at me.

“You're taking off the ring?”

I looked down at it in my palm.

“Yes.”

She hesitated. “Should I call your sister?”

“No.”

“Your mother?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

I closed my fingers around the ring.

“Darian.”

Her expression changed.

“You want to talk to him now?”

“I need to.”

She nodded slowly and stepped away from the vanity.

“I'll give you a few minutes.”

When the door closed behind her, the room became strangely quiet.

I looked at Darian's phone on the table.

Then I picked up mine.

I called him.

He answered before the second ring.

“Hey.”

His voice was warm.

Normal.

That almost hurt more.

“Where are you?”

There was a brief pause.

“At the venue.”

He sounded distracted.

“Everything okay?”

I sat down.

“Can you come upstairs?”

Another pause.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I looked at his phone.

“Because I need to ask you something.”

He laughed softly.

“Arielle, it's our wedding morning. If this is about the seating arrangement, I swear your sister can—”

“Come upstairs, Darian.”

My voice stopped him.

“Okay.”

He hung up.

I stared at the screen.

For a few seconds, I couldn't move.

Then I walked to the window.

The city was already awake. Cars moved along the street below. People hurried toward offices, cafés, and trains.

Ordinary morning.

Nobody knew that mine had just split in two.

I had imagined this day so many times.

Darian standing at the altar.

Me walking toward him.

His face changing when he saw me.

Our families are watching.

Our friends are cheering.

The vows.

The photographs.

The first dance.

Seven years of waiting finally becoming something permanent.

I had never imagined standing in a hotel room, holding my engagement ring in my hand and wondering whether the man I loved had another life.

A knock sounded.

I turned.

Darian walked in.

He looked exactly as he always did.

Dark trousers.

White shirt.

His sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.

His hair is slightly messy.

He smiled when he saw me.

“There you are.”

He took two steps toward me.

Then he stopped.

Something in my face must have warned him.

“What happened?”

I didn't answer.

His eyes moved around the room.

“Where's your sister?”

“I sent her out.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to speak to you alone.”

His expression tightened.

“About what?”

I held out my hand.

The engagement ring rested in my palm.

His eyes dropped to it.

Then returned to my face.

“You took it off.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I studied him.

Seven years.

I knew that face.

I knew every small change in it.

The way his jaw tightened when he was annoyed.

The way his eyes moved when he was thinking.

The slight pause before he lied.

That pause came now.

I held up his phone.

“Who is Vesper Lorne?”

He went completely still.

It lasted less than a second.

But I saw it.

Then he exhaled.

“Arielle—”

“Who is she?”

“She's someone I know.”

I almost smiled.

“That wasn't my question.”

“She works with one of our clients.”

“Your client?”

“Yes.”

“That's why she sends you messages at seven in the morning?”

He looked at the phone in my hand.

“Where did you get that?”

“You left it here.”

“I thought I had it.”

“You did.”

He swallowed.

I placed the phone on the table between us.

“Why did she say you promised her today would change everything?”

His eyes flickered.

“I can explain.”

I nodded.

“Then explain.”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

I waited.

Finally, he said, “It's complicated.”

I laughed once.

It wasn't funny.

“Of course it is.”

“Arielle, listen to me.”

“No. You listen.”

I picked up my phone and opened the photograph.

Then I turned the screen toward him.

“Where were you last night at 8:42?”

His face changed.

Just slightly.

But enough.

“I told you. I went home.”

“No.”

I zoomed in on his wrist.

“You told me you went home.”

He looked at the photograph.

The watch was visible.

The one I'd given him.

The one he had told me was sitting at home.

His eyes closed briefly.

“I forgot I was wearing it.”

I stared at him.

“That is your explanation?”

“I was tired.”

“You forgot you were wearing a watch?”

“I didn't think it mattered.”

“It mattered when you lied about it.”

He stepped closer.

“Arielle, nothing happened.”

I felt something inside me crack.

“Nothing?”

“I swear.”

“Then why were you touching her like that?”

“She was upset.”

“And that makes it normal?”

“No.”

“Does she know you're marrying me?”

He didn't answer.

That was enough.

I looked away.

The silence stretched between us.

“Darian.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“She knows about you.”

“That isn't what I asked.”

“She knows we're engaged.”

“But?”

He looked at me.

“She doesn't believe we're going through with it.”

My stomach tightened.

“Why?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“She misunderstood something I said.”

“What did you say?”

He looked away.

I waited.

Finally, he said, “I told her I needed time.”

“For what?”

“To sort things out.”

I stared at him.

“Between me and you?”

“Yes.”

“And between you and her?”

He didn't answer.

I felt my eyes burn.

I refused to cry.

Not yet.

“Did you sleep with her?”

His head snapped up.

“Arielle.”

“Answer me.”

“It isn't that simple.”

That was all I needed.

I stepped back.

He reached for me.

I moved away.

“Don't.”

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

“I love you.”

The words came quickly.

Too quickly.

Almost rehearsed.

I looked at him.

“Do you love her?”

His expression changed.

For the first time that morning, he looked genuinely afraid.

“No.”

The answer came after a pause.

I noticed it.

He noticed me noticing it.

“I don't love her,” he repeated.

“Then why is she waiting for you to leave me?”

“I told you. She misunderstood.”

“And why did you tell her today would change everything?”

He said nothing.

“Darian?”

His phone vibrated on the table.

Neither of us moved.

The screen lit up.

VESPER LORNE.

Darian reached for it.

I got there first.

A message filled the screen.

I read it.

Then I looked at him.

You told me she knew everything. Don't make me come upstairs and tell her myself.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Darian went pale.

“What did you tell her?” I asked.

“Arielle—”

“No.”

I placed the phone back on the table.

My voice was quiet now.

“What exactly did you tell Vesper about me?”

He stared at me.

And for the first time in seven years, Darian didn't look like a man trying to explain a misunderstanding.

He looked like a man trying to decide which lie would hurt me the least.