4

Three months had passed since the wedding, and Marian had become a ghost in Bruce's mansion. He barely looked at her, never spoke unless necessary, and made it clear through his cold silence that she was an unwanted presence in his life.

Every day felt like punishment. The maids whispered behind her back. His parents refused to acknowledge her existence. And Bruce... Bruce treated her like she was invisible.

But at least her father was alive. The surgery had been successful. He was recovering well. Every time the guilt threatened to crush her, she reminded herself: "Dad is alive because of what I did. It was worth it."

Still, the price was so much higher than she'd imagined.

She had tried everything cooking his favorite meals (which he never touched), waiting up for him at night (he'd walk past her without a glance), even attempting small conversations (met with icy silence). Each rejection carved deeper into her heart, but she told herself she deserved this. After all, she had taken Elisabeth's place. She had ruined his dream of marrying the woman he loved.

Tonight, like every other night, she sat alone in her nearly empty room, reading to distract herself from the suffocating loneliness. The book in her hands blurred as tears threatened to fall. She had never felt more alone in her entire life.

The door suddenly burst open.

Marian jumped, her book falling from her hands. Bruce staggered inside, his usually perfect hair disheveled, his tie loose and hanging around his neck. The sharp smell of alcohol hit her immediately.

"Bruce?" She stood up from the bed, alarmed. She had never seen him like this vulnerable, unsteady.

He stumbled forward, and she instinctively moved to catch him. "Take it easy," she said softly, guiding him toward the bed. Her heart pounded. This was the closest she'd been to him since the wedding day.

"What happened to you?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "What happened? Everything happened. My life is ruined, that's what happened." He slapped his forehead lightly, then looked at her with unfocused eyes. "Went to clear my head... my friends dragged me out... made me drink... and now I'm pissed drunk and can't even think straight."

Marian bit her lip. Even drunk, he was in pain. She could see it in his eyes the hurt, the loss. "You should rest. You'll have a terrible hangover tomorrow if "

His hand suddenly reached up, fingers gently stroking her chin. She froze.

"You look beautiful tonight, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile she'd never seen before.

Her breath caught. "W-what?"

"So beautiful... just like I remembered." His thumb traced her jawline, and she felt her cheeks flush. "I've missed you so much, Elisabeth. Every single day."

The name hit her like a slap.

Elisabeth.

Her heart plummeted, but before she could pull away, he leaned in and kissed her cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry I've been distant. I was just... scared. Scared of how much I love you."

Marian's eyes widened in horror. He thought she was Elisabeth. He was drunk and completely believed she was her sister.

She should stop this. She should tell him. She should

He captured her lips in a passionate kiss, stealing her breath and her thoughts. For three months, she had been invisible to him. For three months, she had longed for even the smallest sign that he saw her, that she mattered. And now, even though he thought she was someone else, his lips were on hers, and she felt wanted for the first time since this nightmare began.

Her hands betrayed her, moving to the back of his head, fingers sliding into his hair. She knew this was wrong. She knew she should stop. But her lonely, broken heart craved this affection so desperately.

"Elisabeth," he whispered against her lips, "I love you so much."

Each time he said that name, it was like a knife twisting in her chest. But she couldn't stop. She was starving for his touch, for any sign that she wasn't completely worthless.

His hands moved with urgency, undressing her slowly. She should protest. She should scream the truth. But she remained silent, tears sliding down her cheeks even as her body responded to his touch.

"I've dreamed of this moment," he breathed, his lips trailing down her neck. "Being with you... finally making you mine."

"But I'm already yours," she wanted to scream. "I'm your wife. I'm Marian."

But the words never came.

He was gentle with her, surprisingly tender for someone so drunk. He kept whispering Elisabeth's name, kept telling her how much he loved her, how perfect she was. Each word was agony. Each touch was both heaven and hell.

When he finally entered her, she gasped at the pain a sharp reminder that this was real, that this was happening. He paused, concerned even in his drunken state.

"I'll be gentle," he promised. "I love you too much to hurt you."

"But you are hurting me," she thought as silent tears streamed down her face. "You're breaking me, and you don't even know it."

Her body eventually adjusted, and she found herself lost in the physical sensations, even as her heart shattered into a million pieces. For those brief moments, she pretended. She pretended he knew who she was. She pretended he loved her. She pretended this meant something.

When it was over, he collapsed beside her, pulling her close. "I love you, Elisabeth," he mumbled sleepily. "Always have... always will..."

Within minutes, he was asleep.

Marian lay there in the darkness, his arm draped over her, feeling more alone than ever. She had just given herself to a man who didn't even know who she was. A man who loved her sister. A man who would hate her even more when he woke up and realized what had happened.

She turned to look at him, his face peaceful in sleep. He looked almost boyish, vulnerable. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like if he actually cared for her, if he had whispered her name instead of Elisabeth's.

Hesitantly, she reached out and gently stroked his shoulder, allowing herself this one moment of tenderness.

"I know you'll never love me," she whispered into the darkness. "But maybe... maybe this could be enough. Maybe now you'll see me differently. Maybe "

"Mmh..." he groaned, his eyes still closed. "Go to sleep, Elisabeth. It's too late for another round."

The world stopped.

Elisabeth.

He still thought she was Elisabeth.

Even now. Even after everything.

The realization crashed over her like ice water. Her hand froze on his shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat. The small, foolish hope she'd been nursing that maybe, somehow, this would change things died instantly.

He hadn't made love to her. He had made love to the ghost of her sister.

She meant nothing to him. She was nothing to him.

Marian pulled away from him as if burned. With trembling hands, she grabbed her clothes and dressed quickly, her movements jerky and panicked. She couldn't breathe. The room felt like it was closing in on her.

She stumbled to the door, her vision blurred with tears. She had to get out. She had to leave. She couldn't stay here another second.

As she reached the door, she looked back one last time at Bruce, sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the devastation he'd just caused.

"I'll never be enough for you," she whispered brokenly. "And I can't keep destroying myself trying to be."

She fled the room, her heart in pieces, knowing that everything had just changed. She couldn't stay in this house, in this marriage, in this life that was never meant to be hers.

By morning, she would have to face the consequences of tonight. But right now, all she could do was run from the man who loved someone else while lying in her arms.