Chapter 2: Five years

Rachel's POV

Cold water rushed over my head, numbing my skin and silencing the ringing in my ears. The hotel’s staff shower was small and unremarkable, white tiles, humming fluorescent light, but it felt like the only place I could hide. I scrubbed at my arms until the faint scent of frosting was gone, yet the humiliation clung to me like a stain that would not wash out.

When the water finally ran clear, I stood there for a moment, hands braced on the wall, my breath trembling.

Today was terrible. No, beyond terrible.

I towelled off quickly, slipped into the spare staff clothes one of my old colleagues had pressed into my hands, and stuffed my ruined dress into a plastic bag. My reflection in the fogged mirror was a stranger. My hair still damp, my eyes swollen from tears, and my cheeks pale under the harsh lighting.

I tried to laugh at myself, but it came out as a choked sound.

What exactly had I expected? That he would come running, lift me out of that mess like the husband he was supposed to be?

I pulled out my phone. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing.

Of course not.

Sometimes I hated myself for caring so much. For still waiting for a man who had long stopped waiting for me.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned toward the door, only to freeze when I heard his voice.

“You ruined today’s party.”

I spun around. Adrian stood at the threshold, his suit immaculate again, as though the chaos downstairs had never happened.

For a heartbeat, all I could do was stare. “You didn’t knock.”

“This is my place. Why should I knock?”

The arrogance in his tone scraped something raw inside me. Of course he would not. He did not need permission for anything, not in his hotel, not in his world.

I clenched my jaw. “Shouldn’t you be with Marissa? Comforting her?”

His eyes narrowed. “So you noticed.”

“How could I not?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You were busy playing the hero. In case you forgot, you crashed into the cart because you were saving her.”

He exhaled through his nose, the faintest sign of irritation. “You don’t have to bring Marissa into this.”

“How can I not?” I snapped. “She’s always there, isn’t she? In every room, every conversation, every silence between us.”

His chest rose and fell, restrained anger simmering behind his composure. “If it’s as you say, I apologize. But the problem between us has nothing to do with Marissa.”

I gave a hollow laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”

He looked away first. That tiny, telling gesture twisted something in my chest.

Before our arranged marriage, I already knew Marissa’s name. Everyone did. She was the beautiful actress who once dated the heir to the Parker family fortune. What I did not know was that five years later, I would still be living in her shadow, sleeping beside a man who never truly saw me because his heart was trapped somewhere else.

“Adrian,” I said quietly, trying to steady my voice, “it’s time to pick up Amber. Do you want to come with me? She’s been asking about you lately.”

He didn’t answer. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced at the caller ID. For just a second, his expression changed, softened, then shuttered again.

“I have some urgent matters to deal with,” he said.

Liar. I could see it in his eyes.

“Amber needs you,” I said, the words trembling but firm. “She’s your daughter. It’s not fair to her if you always put your urgent matters before her.” I met his gaze head-on. “She keeps waiting for you to come home, you know. She asks every night why you’re not there. Why you don’t tuck her in anymore.”

He looked at me then, really looked. Not with affection, more like a man being confronted with something inconvenient. “I promise I’ll be home soon,” he said finally, his voice measured and distant. His gaze flicked over my clothes, my damp hair, the exhaustion on my face. “Change before you pick her up. You shouldn’t let her see you like this.”

That was all.

He left without another word.

I stood there in the silence that followed, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

Why did he even bother to come if all he had to offer was criticism? Why couldn’t he just stay away and let me stop hoping altogether?

I packed my things mechanically, tucking my phone into my bag with shaking hands. My body moved on autopilot, but my mind was chaos, every thought circling the same painful orbit.

Don’t cry. Not here. Not where he can see you broken.

I should have gone straight home. Should have gone to Amber and left everything else behind. But as I walked down the corridor, my feet seemed to move on their own.

Before I realized it, I was in the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor. Adrian’s private suite.

The doors opened to silence. The hallway was dim, lined with soft gold lights that flickered against the polished floor. My pulse quickened. Maybe I was being foolish. Maybe I just needed to see, to know what I had already begun to suspect.

I approached the suite slowly, every step heavier than the last.

Then I heard voices through the slightly ajar door.

“Adrian, don’t you feel guilty for leaving your wife alone in such an embarrassing situation in the hall?”

Her voice. Sweet, smooth, practiced. Marissa.

My breath caught.

Adrian’s reply came low, steady. “Our five-year agreement will expire soon. I don’t want to give her any false hope. I don’t want to be trapped in this marriage anymore.”

The words struck me like a physical blow.

I pressed a hand to my chest, the air leaving my lungs in one sharp gasp. For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Agreement.

That’s what our marriage was to him, a contract counting down to its end, a business transaction about to close.

I stumbled back from the door, barely keeping my balance.

My vision blurred as I turned away, my pulse pounding in my ears. The corridor seemed endless, the world spinning slightly under my feet.

He didn’t love me.

Not even a little.

I had known it all along, but hearing it aloud made something inside me collapse.

I made it to the elevator before the tears came, hot and unstoppable. I pressed my forehead against the cool metal wall, whispering to no one, “Five years, and I was still never enough.”

The doors closed, sealing the truth behind me.