Chapter 3

Alexander was in the study, pouring himself a scotch when Maya appeared in the doorway. He looked up, startled.

"You're still awake."

"I said we needed to talk." Maya stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Her hands trembled slightly, but she clasped them together to hide it.

"It's three in the morning, Maya. Whatever it is can wait until—"

"Where were you?"

The question hung in the air between them. Alexander's jaw tightened, his glass frozen halfway to his lips.

"I told you. A meeting."

"Don't lie to me." Maya's voice was quiet but firm. "Not tonight. Please."

Something flickered across Alexander's face. Surprise, maybe, at this unfamiliar version of his wife. The Maya he knew didn't challenge him, didn't make demands.

He set down his glass with careful precision. "I was with Isabelle."

The confirmation still hurt, even though Maya had known. Even though she'd prepared herself for it during the long hours of waiting.

"She called me," Maya said. "Earlier tonight. To tell me she was back in town. To tell me she was taking you back."

"Maya—"

"Did you know she was coming back?"

Silence.

"How long?" Maya asked. "How long have you been in contact with her?"

"Three months." Alexander ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. His face transformed into something cold and unreachable.

"She reached out three months ago. We've been... together."

Three months. While Maya had been going to doctor's appointments, getting her death sentence, Alexander had been reconnecting with his lost love.

"I see."

"I don't need your approval ," Alexander barked.

"I didn't say you needed it." Maya moved further into the room, her bare feet silent on the Persian rug. "It's just surprising that after all this time, you're still caught up with your ex-girlfriend without any consideration for me? You still have feelings for her which makes our marriage a sham from the very beginning."

"Don't." Alexander's voice turned sharp. "Don't act like you didn't know what this marriage was when we entered into it. It was a business arrangement. Nothing more."

"You're right." Maya felt surprisingly calm. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe she was simply too tired to feel anything anymore. "It was a business arrangement. But I was still a good wife to you. I managed your household, organized your events, smiled at your family dinners. I never complained. Never asked for more than you were willing to give."

"I know that." Alexander looked away. "You've been... adequate."

Adequate. Five years of her life reduced to that one word.

"Isabelle wants me to divorce you," Alexander said quietly. "She wants us to have a real chance this time. No family interference. No arranged marriages."

There it was. The end Maya had always known was coming, just arriving sooner than expected.

"And what do you want?" Maya asked.

Alexander met her eyes then. In the low light of the study, his gray eyes looked almost black. "I want a divorce."

The words should have shattered her. Should have brought her to her knees. But Maya had known, hadn't she? She'd always known that Alexander's heart belonged to someone else.

She looked at him, memorizing the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the broad shoulders that had never held her. 

This man had been her husband for five years, and she barely knew him at all.

"I have one request," Maya heard herself say.

Alexander frowned. "What?"

Maya stepped closer, close enough to see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, close enough to smell the scotch on his breath mixed with a perfume that wasn't hers.

She looked him straight in the eye.

"Can we live as a real married couple for just one month? After that, I will leave for good."

Alexander stared at her as if she'd spoken a foreign language. "What?"

"One month," Maya repeated. Her voice was steady now, calm. "One month of living together as actual husband and wife. After that, I'll give you your divorce. No lawyers, no fighting. I'll sign whatever papers you want."

"Maya, this is ridiculous. Why would we—"

"Because in five years of marriage, you've never once tried to know me. You've never asked what I want, what I dream about, what I'm afraid of. You've treated me like furniture in your house—useful, decorative, but ultimately forgettable." Maya kept her gaze locked on his. "I'm asking for thirty days. Thirty days to actually be your wife before I walk away forever."

"This doesn't make any sense." Alexander shook his head. "What possible difference could a month make?"

All the difference in the world, Maya thought. Because it's all the time I have left.

But she didn't say that. Instead, she said, "If you can spend thirty days with me and still want a divorce, I'll know I gave this marriage everything I had. And I'll be able to walk away in peace."

"And if I refuse?"

Maya smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll make the divorce as difficult and drawn-out as possible. I'll tie you up in legal proceedings for months. Maybe years. Every tabloid will know that Alexander Blackwood abandoned his devoted wife for his college girlfriend."

It was a bluff. Maya had neither the strength nor the time for a prolonged legal battle. But Alexander didn't know that.

She watched him calculate, weighing his options. His family's reputation was everything. A messy divorce would be bad for business, bad for the Blackwood name.

The silence stretched between them and finally Alexander spoke.

"Fine."

"One month," he continued, his voice cold. "But there are conditions. We tell no one about this arrangement. As far as the family is concerned, everything is normal. And when the month is over, you leave quietly. No drama. No scenes."

"Agreed," Maya said.

They stood facing each other in the dim study, two strangers bound by vows that had never meant anything. Outside, the city was beginning to wake.

Alexander turned away first, picking up his scotch. "This is a mistake."

"Probably," Maya agreed softly. "But it's mine to make."

She left him there and climbed the stairs back to her room. Her hands were shaking now, adrenaline finally catching up with her.

One month.

Thirty days to live as Alexander Blackwood's real wife.