The Wife He Never Loved

Aria's POV I stood at the back of the St. Regulus Cathedral, watching my husband stand at the altar as best man to a groom he barely liked. The bride floated down the aisle in clouds of white silk and lace, and I watched Jason's face transform into something I had never seen in our two years of marriage.He looked like a man seeing a ghost.Violet Brown was beautiful in that effortless way some women would… her dark hair cascaded over bare shoulders, her eyes that sparkled even from a distance. But it wasn't her beauty that made Jason stare. It was how much she looked like her dead sister.Isabelle Brown had died five years ago in a car accident. I knew because I had found the photos hidden in Jason's desk drawer six months into our marriage—Jason younger, smiling, his arm around a woman who could have been Violet's twin. Love letters tucked beneath them, words that had carved themselves into my memory: “You're my everything. I'll love you forever. No one will ever compare.”I had

Aria's POV.The coffee shop smelled like espresso and rain. I sat in a corner booth, the photographs spread across the table like evidence at a crime scene, waiting for a man I had never met.The anonymous "friend" had answered on the second ring last night. A woman's voice, distorted somehow. She told me to hire a private investigator named Andrew Philips, gave me his number, and hung up before I could ask questions.Now Andrew sat across from me, studying the photos carefully. He was older than I expected, maybe fifty, with gray threading through his dark hair."Your husband is careful," he said finally, tapping one of the restaurant photos. "Six months and no one's caught them? He's either very smart or very connected.""Can you find proof?" My coffee had gone cold. I hadn't touched it."Proof of what, exactly? That he's having an affair?" Andrew looked up. "These photos show proximity, Mrs. Hartley. Not infidelity. Any decent lawyer would argue they're business meetings or grief

Jason's POV.I stared at my phone in the Singapore hotel room, Aria's contact photo filling the screen. The picture was from our honeymoon, smiling on a beach in Santorini, looking at me like I was something worth capturing.I should call her. I knew I should. My thumb hovered over her name.I locked the phone and set it face down on the nightstand.What would I even say? That the meetings were running long? That I would be back on Friday instead of Thursday? She wouldn't ask questions. She never did. That was one of the things that made her easy to live with.Easy. That was the word I had used when I proposed. My father had been on my case for two years, ever since Isabelle died. “You need to move on, Jason. The board is getting nervous. A thirty-two-year-old CEO with no personal life, no stability. Find someone appropriate and get married. Or I'm giving it to Kyle."Kyle. My younger brother, who disappeared to New York right after my wedding. Who called maybe twice a year. Who loo

Aria’s POVThe elevator descended slowly, each floor feeling like a countdown to freedom. I watched the numbers decrease…25, 24, 23…my two suitcases standing beside me like silent allies.When the doors opened to the parking garage, I stepped out and headed toward my car. I was about to walk in when I heard the sound of a tyre screech. Headlights flooded the garage, blinding me.I knew that car was Jason’s car.“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”He parked directly behind my car, blocking me in. The door opened and he stepped out, still wearing his suit from the restaurant, the red mark from my slap visible on his cheek even in the dim lighting.“Going somewhere?” His voice echoed across the concrete.I tightened my grip on my suitcase handles. “Get out of my way.”“Our way.” He walked toward me slowly, deliberately. “This is our building, our parking garage, our marriage. Or did you forget?”“Move your car, Jason.”“No.” He stopped a few feet away. “You’re not leaving.”“Watch me.”I

Aria’s POVThe alarm went off at 6:30 AM. I reached over and silenced it, then stared at the ceiling for a long moment.Last night felt like a fever dream. I got up and walked to the bathroom. The shower was hot enough to turn my skin pink. I washed my hair, conditioned it, then stood under the water until my breathing felt more steady.When I got out, I pulled my hair straight with the flat iron Jason had bought me six months into our marriage. “Your natural hair is beautiful,” he’d said, “but this looks more polished for events.” I’d started straightening it every day after that.The navy dress hung in the closet where I’d left it. Simple, modest, the kind Jason nodded at approvingly when I wore it. I put it on and checked my reflection. I had minimal markup and a small pearl earrings.By the time I walked into the kitchen, it was 6:55. I poured myself coffee and sat at the breakfast table with my phone, scrolling through emails I’d already read.At exactly 7:00, Jason’s bedroom