CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1 

The Bitter Truth 

Elena's POV 

“Mrs. Hayes? You need to come get your husband right now.”

The music in the background was too loud, to the point I couldn't help but wonder what Damon was doing in such a place. There was also laughter mostly from men, glasses clinking, and someone shouting about closing a deal. I guess it's more of a celebration. 

“I’m sorry?” I pressed the phone harder to my ear, trying to figure out why I'm needed in such a noisy place. 

“Damon’s terribly drunk. He won’t listen to any of us here. He keeps saying your name, so we checked you out. You should come get him home.”

Immediately, my heart did something foolish, something a good wife would have done without thinking. For him to mention my name in such a state, means he has me in mind.

“Send me the address immediately,” I said quickly, already reaching for my coat and car keys.

“Private lounge, at Grand Meridian Hotel, the top floor.”

The call ended like it never happened. 

I didn’t think twice. Not even a second. I didn’t question why his assistant hadn’t called to inform me of such. I didn’t ask why none of his friends could bring home, but suddenly cared about my presence in his life. 

I just went, not for anybody, but because that’s what wives do.

*************

The elevator ride to the top floor felt rather too slow. Maybe because I needed to get there too fast, to know how Damon was faring. 

I used that opportunity to stare at my reflection in the mirrored walls, because I didn't get the luxury of checking out my looks before coming out. I noticed I had a minimal makeup on, my hair still tied the same way it was from the hospital shift I had just finished. And to worsen it all, I smelled faintly of antiseptic and exhaustion.

The doors finally slid open just when I was about to give up. The hallway felt strangely quiet for a blast blasting with music not long ago on the phone. 

Then, on getting closer, already on the third floor, laughter burst out, and they were male voices.

“Damon’s definitely unstoppable in Europe now!”

“He’s got the great Laurent investors watching him again.”

Laurent? 

My steps slowed down so that I could get more of their gist, not eager to go in anymore. 

Then, one of them continued; 

“Does it mean Jasmine’s really back for good this time?”

My pulse hitched, but I managed to breath and stay alive to see the end of everything. 

I calmly reached the door, my hand resting nervously against the polished wood.

Inside the lounge, someone chuckled. “Man, how are you handling all of that? Your sexy and beautiful ex walking back into New York like that?”

A softer laugh came out this time, very familiar that I could swear he owned it. It was actually Damon, my husband, the one that made me rush down to Carter for him. 

Then, his voice came out very smooth, slightly slurred but steady.

“If you can’t marry the one you so desire…” He paused for a few seconds, allowing the words to settle in. I could almost picture him leaning back on his seat, swirling his drink in his hand like it had offended him. “…it doesn’t even matter who you end up with.”

The moment he finished, they all burst out in laughter, not even shocked because of what he said. But agreement that he was right, thereby misleading him.

Someone whistled among them, someone who really paid attention to the meaning of his words. “That’s actually cold, Damon. Your wife would definitely kill you if she gets to hear that.”

Another voice started, though lower, and amused. “So what happens now that she’s back? Are you by any chance going to stay in New York longer this time?”

There was silence, as I waited for Damon to reply. 

“Well, it depends.”

On what?

On her?

I was so eager to know, even as my breathing felt too loud, and too sharp for me. Then I heard the sound of chairs scraping, more like someone was trying to stand up.

“To be honest,” one of them pushed him to talk, they just listened. “If Jasmine happens to ask you to leave with her tonight, would you do that?”

There it was, the very question I have been waiting for. The real one.

A heartbeat passed, then two, before Damon finally spoke. 

“If you can’t marry the one you want most…” His tone suddenly dropped, now more quiet, almost thoughtful. “…it doesn’t matter who you end up with at last.”

The same sentence that he had said before, only that this time, it sounded less like a joke.

And more like the truth, my vision started blurring. Three whole years of living with him. 

Three years of marriage, of spending my life with him. Three years of living in the dark, believing I was chosen, but rather reduced to a placeholder.

Someone cleared their throat after a few seconds. “And what about Elena?”

I waited, like my whole life depended on that. I waited for him to defend me, to choose me.

To say something...anything that would soothe my pain.

“She’s… good,” Damon finally said. “She’s just steady.”

Only steady? More like furniture, a reliable car that can be used any time, and dumped when no more needed. 

At that instant, heat rushed to my face, even my hand slipped slightly against the door.

And that tiny sound...that small, betraying movement was enough to tell me where I stand. 

The door jerked open all of a sudden from the inside, and right there stood Damon. 

His tie was loosened, showing how drunk he was. His sleeves rolled up, nothing like the man that left home in the morning. His eyes were slightly unfocused...but that wasn't enough to miss me.

On sighting her standing like a statue, one of his friends muttered, “Oh, shit.”

Damon blinked at me, trying to figure out if I'm real or not.

“Elena?”

No one moved, not even him. 

I looked at him, at the man who held my hand in the snow like I was a treasure. The man who kissed my forehead repeatedly, in a hot spring villa and made me feel loved, whispering sweet nothings, that fate had trapped us together.

The man who once told me, “You’re safe with me.”

“How long have you been standing right there?” he asked, his eyes bulging out. 

"Have you ever loved me?" I asked, holding back tears because I can't be weak in front of him.