The Love You Faked

Aria’s POV 

“Jason, it’s past eleven. Where are you?” 

I tried to keep my voice calm, though my hand trembled holding the phone. I had called twice before, and each time it went straight to voicemail. He had promised to be home for dinner. My pasta had gone cold an hour ago. 

The phone beeped. No response. I sighed, pressing my palm against my chest. My heart was racing again. I told myself to stop overthinking. Maybe he got caught up at work. He was always busy, right? Always tired. Still, something inside me felt off. 

The house was quiet except for the sound of the clock ticking above the fireplace. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was like the seconds were mocking me. I tried to focus on the TV, but the laughter from the sitcom only made the silence feel louder. 

Finally, I stood up and walked to the dining table. The candles I lit had burned halfway down. I smiled sadly. “You tried, Aria,” I whispered to myself. “You tried to make it special.” 

Our seventh wedding anniversary.  He had forgotten. I turned off the candles, my eyes burning, not from the smoke, but from holding back tears. 

Then I heard it, the sound of the door unlocking. My heart jumped. “Jason?” I rushed toward the door. 

He stepped in, tall, well-dressed as always, his tie loose around his neck. He froze when he saw me. “Ariana, why are you still awake?” 

“Why am I awake?” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “It’s our anniversary, Jason.” 

He blinked like he didn’t hear me. “Ohh.” He paused. “Right. I… I got held up at work. You know how it is.” 

“Work?” I stepped closer. The faint scent of perfume hit me, not mine. Floral, sweet, too strong. And there, right on his shirt collar, was a faint red mark. Lipstick. My lips parted, but no words came. 

He noticed my eyes drift to it and quickly pulled off his coat. “What?” he asked, pretending confusion. 

“Nothing,” I said quietly, trying to breathe. “Just… you smell different.” 

He chuckled lightly. “Perfume from the office. Some of the ladies came to congratulate us on closing a deal. You know how it goes.” 

He brushed past me, heading upstairs. I followed him, my bare feet against the cold marble floor. He was already in front of the mirror, removing his tie. 

“Jason,” I said softly. 

He hummed, “uhhh” not looking at me. 

“You forgot our anniversary dinner.” 

He sighed. “Aria, we’ve been married for seven years. Does it really matter if I miss one dinner?” 

The words stung more than I expected. “It’s not about the dinner. It’s about us.” 

He turned to face me, tired eyes, no remorse. “Aria, I’m exhausted. Can we not do this tonight?” 

“I waited all evening, Jason.” My voice cracked. “I cooked your favorite meal, I…” 

“Stop,” he said sharply. “You’re always making everything emotional. I said I’m tired!” 

The silence that followed was heavy. I swallowed hard, my eyes burning again. 

He picked up his phone, scrolling. The blue light from the screen reflected on his face, calm and cold. That calm scared me more than anger ever could. 

“Who were you with?” I finally asked. 

He looked up, one brow raised. “What kind of question is that?” 

“You didn’t answer your phone for hours.” 

“Because I was busy.” 

“Busy with who?” 

“Aria, drop it!” 

“Jason,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re hiding something.” 

He slammed his phone on the table. “Enough!” 

I flinched. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then spoke in that calm voice again. “Look, I don’t have the strength for this tonight. Let’s talk tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow? Tomorrow that always never came.

He walked past me, pulling off his shirt. I stared again, there were faint red stains near his neck. “You’re lying,” I said louder, tears spilling down. “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?” 

He laughed softly, that cruel kind of laugh that makes you feel small. “Don’t start your drama, Aria.” 

“Then explain the perfume, the lipstick, the late nights!” I screamed louder now. "Explain why you don’t look at me anymore! Why you don’t even touch me!” 

He turned slowly, his expression blank. “Maybe because I’m tired of pretending.” 

I stared at him, the man I had loved since we were teenagers. “Pretending?” I echoed, my voice faint. 

“Aria,” he said, his tone flat, “I think we both know this marriage stopped working long ago.” 

“No,” I whispered. “Don’t say that.” 

He shrugged, unbothered. “It’s the truth.” 

I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. “I gave up everything for you, Jason. I left my dreams, my job, my …” 

“And I didn’t ask you to!” he snapped. “You chose that life, Aria. You chose to play the perfect wife. I didn’t force you.” 

 I took a step back. “You’re not the man I married.” 

He sighed and looked away. “Maybe you never really knew me.” 

For a long moment, silence filled the room again. Only my quiet sobs broke it. He slipped into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open. The sound of running water filled the air. 

How did we get here? 

Once, he used to drive hours just to see me after work. Once, he used to send me flowers for no reason. Once, he said he couldn’t live without me. Now, he couldn’t even stay in the same room. 

Outside, rain began to fall, tapping gently on the window. It matched the rhythm of my breaking heart. 

“Pull yourself together,” I whispered to myself. “You’re not going to break.” But the truth was, I already had. 

I stared at his phone on the dresser. My hands shook as I picked it up.  

The screen lit up with a message preview. 

“Did she notice anything?, From L”