Chapter 3: Elena's POV

I had long grown used to Adrian’s indifference. At first, it had cut me like a knife every single time—his silence, his cold stare, the way he dismissed me as if I were no more than a shadow in his busy world. But over the years, I had built a wall around my heart.

Now, when he ignored me, it no longer shocked me. It still hurt, yes—it always hurt—but it was a pain I had learned to carry quietly.

So when I stood in his office, asking once again for a divorce, I already knew what his answer would be. Or rather, what his non-answer would be.

He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were fixed on his computer screen, his fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as if my words were nothing but background noise.

“I don’t care,” I finally said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my lips. I pretended to sound cheerful, though my chest felt tight. “I’ve said it to your face, and you’ve heard it with your own ears. You didn’t refuse, so I’ll take that as your agreement.”

The words left my mouth with a lightness I didn’t feel. In truth, I was trembling inside. My hands, hidden in the folds of my dress, were clenched into fists.

I began to back out of the office, keeping my smile fixed in place. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I still cared, how much he still had the power to hurt me.

But just as I turned the corner, I bumped into someone. The sudden impact made me stumble.

When I looked up, I froze.

It was Linda.

Linda—the graceful ballet dancer whose every move seemed to capture the world’s attention. Linda, the woman everyone believed was Adrian’s destined partner.

She stood there in a cream-colored dress, her hair swept up elegantly, her beauty flawless as always. For a brief second, her delicate brows furrowed from the bump, but even that expression looked poised, as though she were performing on a stage.

My gaze lowered, almost instinctively, and that was when I noticed the necklace around her neck. A tennis necklace, simple yet elegant, sparkling faintly under the office lights.

My breath caught.

I knew that necklace.

Or rather, I had once owned the exact same design. I had given it to my best friend years ago when I was still a child. That friend… her face was blurry in my memory now. After being adopted by Mark and later falling seriously ill with a fever, my past had become a haze. There were pieces missing, as if parts of my childhood had been locked away in a dark room I could no longer open.

But that necklace—it unlocked something. A faint memory, warm and painful at the same time.

I wanted to hold onto the feeling, but before I could think any further, the accident happened.

Both Linda and I lost our balance from the collision. The shock of it sent us both stumbling backward, our bodies tilting at the same time.

For one terrifying second, I thought I was going to hit the hard floor.

But in that instant, Adrain rushed forward. His arms stretched out, but not toward me—toward Linda. He caught her effortlessly, his hands steady on her arms as if she were something fragile he had vowed to protect.

I almost laughed at how predictable it was.

And then, just when I thought I was about to fall, someone else caught me.

A pair of strong yet gentle hands steadied my shoulders. The warmth of that touch startled me, and then a calm, soothing voice reached my ears.

“Are you alright?”

I turned, startled.

The man looking at me had sharp features, eyes that seemed to carry both intelligence and kindness, and a presence that was commanding yet gentle.

I recognized him instantly.

Eric.

Linda's cousin. The heir of the Yates family.

I had seen his face on the cover of a business magazine once. What stood out to me then wasn’t just his name, but the tennis racket he had been holding in the photo. That tiny detail had burned itself into my memory, maybe because it reminded me so much of my own past—of the sport I had once loved more than anything.

Now, standing so close to him, I felt something I couldn’t explain.

Familiarity.

It was strange, almost impossible, but it was there—a feeling that we had crossed paths before, though I knew that couldn’t be true.

I quickly shook my head and pulled away gently, using my own strength to stand up straight.

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Eric.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and he tilted his head. “You know me?” he asked in surprise.

Before I could reply, a sharp voice cut through the air.

Adrain.

“Aren’t you leaving yet?” he snapped, his tone full of irritation.

The warmth of the moment with Eric vanished instantly, replaced by the coldness I had always known.

I lowered my gaze, not wanting to meet Adrain's eyes. Instead, I nodded politely to Eric, murmured a soft goodbye, and turned to leave.

As I walked away, I heard Linda's gentle voice from behind. “Who is she? Why is she here?”

Adrain’s response was impatient, dismissive, almost cruel.

“She is nobody. Don’t mind her.”

My steps faltered, just for a second.

Nobody.

That word sank deep into my heart. He had always treated me that way—like I was invisible, unimportant, nothing more than a burden forced upon him. And now he had said it out loud, right in front of the woman he truly cared about.

But I didn’t turn back. I didn’t want them to see the hurt on my face. I kept walking, each step heavier than the last.

The truth was, our marriage had never been something the world celebrated. It had been private, hidden, something kept away from the eyes of society. Not even Linda knew about it. To the outside world, Adrain was single, available, perfect.

And I was nothing.

But strangely, instead of breaking me, those words made me feel lighter.

Maybe it was because I had finally decided to end this charade. Maybe it was because I was tired of being nobody.

Either way, I knew one thing for sure—if Adrain refused to see me, then I had to learn to see myself.

I stepped outside the building, breathing in the cool air. My hands trembled slightly as I pulled out my phone.

On the screen was a job posting I had saved earlier. The top tennis club in France—ZZZ Club—was hiring an assistant coach.

The moment I saw it, my heart had leaped. Tennis had always been more than just a sport to me. It was where my dreams had started, where I had felt free, where I had first believed I could be someone.

That part of me had been buried under years of pain, manipulation, and loneliness. But it was still there, waiting for me.

I stared at the number for a long time. My thumb hovered over the screen. Fear whispered in my ear, reminding me of everything I had lost, everything I had failed at.

But courage whispered too.

You are only twenty-three. Your life isn’t over. You are not just here to be someone’s burden.

I took a deep breath.

And then I pressed the call button.

The line rang, and with it, I felt my heart beating faster—fast not with fear, but with hope.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t just waiting for someone else’s decision.

I was making my own.