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Home / Romance / Second Choice: Wife by contract / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Second Choice: Wife by contract: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

141 Chapters

Chapter 1

People say I’m lucky like it’s a finished sentence. Like luck is something that happens and stays. Sometimes I nod when they say it. Sometimes I even smile, because it’s easier than explaining that luck can still feel lonely. That you can sleep beside a man and still feel like you’re borrowing space that doesn’t belong to you. Ethan Cole is my husband. That still feels strange to say. Heavy. Like a coat I didn’t try on properly before buying. He’s kind, in the way men are kind when they don’t mean to hurt you. He remembers birthdays. Pays bills on time. Touches my lower back in public like he’s supposed to. At night, though, he turns away from me in his sleep. Or maybe he was never really facing me to begin with. I tell myself not to overthink it. I’ve always been good at that. Making excuses. Adjusting. Shrinking my expectations until they fit the room. This marriage wasn’t supposed to be romantic anyway. There was paperwork. Clear terms. A mutual understanding that l

Chapter 2

Morning comes like nothing happened. That’s the worst part. Sunlight slips through the curtains like it always does. Soft. Indifferent. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if I imagined last night. If maybe my mind filled in gaps that weren’t real. I do that sometimes. Make stories out of silence. Ethan is already awake. I can tell by the way the bed feels different. Less warm. Less him. He’s in the bathroom when I finally get up. I sit on the edge of the bed and listen to the sound of running water. The shower. Steady. Familiar. Normal. I press my feet flat against the floor and take a breath that feels heavier than it should. I tell myself: Today, just be normal. Downstairs, the house smells like coffee. That small comfort almost undoes me. For a second, I feel something close to gratitude. Or maybe habit. It’s hard to tell the difference anymore. Ethan is standing by the counter, scrolling through his phone with one hand, mug in the othe

Chapter 3

He comes to me at night. No knocking. No warning. Just the quiet shift of the door, the familiar weight of him entering a space that has slowly become mine and never quite stops being his. I’m already awake. I always am when he comes. My body knows before my mind catches up. The mattress dips. My breath stutters. I hate how immediate the reaction is. How little control I have over it. “You’re awake,” he murmurs. I nod, even though the room is dark and he probably can’t see it. There’s enough light to trace him. The outline of his shoulders. The confidence in the way he moves, like the world has always made space for him. He sits close. Not touching yet. He never rushes that part. Like he understands what the waiting does to me. I tell myself not to lean in. I do anyway. His hand settles on my waist. Slow. Certain. His thumb presses lightly, like he’s testing something. Like he’s reminding himself I’m here. My breath slips out before I can stop it. And the thought comes, uninv

Chapter 4

Morning ruins everything. Not in a dramatic way. Just quietly. Light creeping in, thin and unforgiving. The kind that makes things clearer than you want them to be. He was already dressed when I woke up. That’s how I know something is wrong before I even open my eyes properly. His side of the bed is cold. Empty in that way that feels intentional. Like he didn’t just leave. Like he left carefully. I sit up, pulling the sheet higher even though there’s no one left to see me. Habit. Or dignity. Or maybe both. He’s by the window, phone in hand, voice low. Controlled. CEO voice. The one he uses when he’s back in the world that doesn’t include me. “Yes,” he says. Then pauses. “That works.” There’s no trace of last night in his tone. No warmth. No softness. Like it never happened. Like I never happened. I swallow. When he finally turns, his eyes flick to me for half a second. Not unkind. Just… distant. Polite, almost. Like I’m a room he passed through and already forgot.

Chapter 5

I wake up with his arm around me. Heavy. Warm. Possessive in that lazy way people are when they forget to guard themselves. My back fits into his chest like it’s done it a hundred times before. Like this is normal. Like this is ours. For a second, I don’t move. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll pull away. Or worse, I’ll realize this isn’t real. His breath brushes the back of my neck. Slow. Even. Asleep. Actually asleep. That does something to me. Makes my chest ache in a soft, stupid way. I tell myself not to read into it. I read into it anyway. Maybe this means something, I think. Maybe last night mattered. I lie there too long, letting myself feel chosen. Letting myself imagine a version of things where I don’t have to question every quiet moment. When he finally stirs, it’s subtle. A shift. His hand tightens slightly at my waist. Not intentional. Just instinct. “Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. I smile before I can stop myself. “Morning.” He presses his

Chapter 6

I answer him first. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s easier. Maybe because pretending everything is normal feels safer than opening something I won’t know how to close. I’ll be late, he texts. Work ran long. Late still means later. Later still means something, right? Okay, I reply. One word. Neutral. Calm. I hate how practiced I am at sounding fine. I put the phone down and immediately pick it back up. Celeste is still there. Waiting. I can feel it. Like a presence in the room even though she’s nowhere near me. I pace. Kitchen to window. Window to couch. My fingers feel restless. My chest feels too tight for the amount of air in the apartment. I type to her. “What do you want to talk about?” The reply comes slower this time. Thoughtful. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says. “I just don’t want to be confused anymore.” That makes two of us. I sit on the edge of the couch. Press my toes into the rug. Ground myself. My hands are shaking and I don’t know when t

Chapter 7

He comes home later than he said he would. Not late enough to be suspicious. Just late enough to feel deliberate. I hear the door before I see him. The familiar sound of keys. Shoes set neatly aside. Control, even in exhaustion. I stay where I am. On the couch. Knees tucked in. Phone face down like it hasn’t been burning holes into my attention all evening. He loosens his tie as he walks in. Doesn’t look at me right away. “Hey,” he says, eventually. “Hey.” Two soft words. Too much space between them. He sits beside me. Not touching. Close enough that our shoulders almost meet. Almost. I feel the absence like a phantom limb. “You okay?” he asks. I nod too fast. Then slow myself down and nod again. “Yeah. Just tired.” That’s not a lie. It’s just not the whole truth. He studies me for a second. I feel it without looking. The weight of his gaze. Like he’s sensing something but doesn’t want to name it. Naming things has consequences. He reaches for my hand. I let hi

Chapter 8

Morning comes quietly. No dramatic wake-up. No alarms blaring. Just light creeping through the curtains and the slow realization that I didn’t sleep as much as I pretended to. Ethan is already awake. I know because his breathing is different. Lighter. Controlled. The way it always is when he’s thinking. I stay still. My body pressed into his, his arm still around me like nothing is wrong. Like last night didn’t crack something open in my chest. He shifts first. Careful. Gentle. Like he’s trying not to wake me, or maybe like he’s trying not to disturb whatever illusion we built overnight. I open my eyes anyway. “Morning,” he says softly. “Morning.” His voice says husband. His eyes say distance. He kisses my forehead before getting out of bed. That small, automatic gesture. The one that makes my chest ache because it’s tender and empty at the same time. I watch him dress. Shirt. Cufflinks. Watch. Everything precise. Everything in control. I sit up. The words sit heavy on my

Chapter 9

The silence stretches. Too long, heavy. I can feel his chest against mine, his fingers tense around mine, and I want to ask everything and nothing all at once. He finally exhales. Slow. Shaky. Like he’s measuring words before letting them out. “I—Solene,” he starts, then stops. Swallows. “I’m not… I don’t know how to do this. How to do you. How to—” I squeeze his hand tighter. Trying to anchor him. Trying to anchor myself. “You don’t have to know everything,” I murmur. “Just… tell me the truth. Are we… are we surviving, or just existing?” His jaw tightens. Eyes dart to the floor. “I’m trying. I am. But… Celeste. I keep thinking about her. About what we were. What we—what I—” I flinch. Heart jabs in my chest. Of course. I knew. I’ve always known. But hearing it… it’s different. “Ethan,” I whisper, soft but firm. “I didn’t ask you to erase her. I asked if she’s still… in our lives. Because I can handle the past. I can’t handle pretending I don’t exist in yours.” He looks at me t

Chapter 10

The house feels different when I get back. Too quiet. Like it’s waiting. I drop my keys on the counter harder than I need to. The sound echoes. I don’t care. I walk into the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water, forget to drink it. My hands shake a little. I press them flat against the counter until they stop. I tell myself not to rehearse what I’ll say. I rehearse anyway. The door opens an hour later. I know it’s him before I see him. His footsteps are familiar. Measured. Like he’s always aware of the space he takes up. He doesn’t call my name this time. He loosens his tie, sets his phone down face up. A detail I notice and immediately hate myself for noticing. “You’re home,” he says. “So are you.” We stand there. The air between us feels thick. Like everything we didn’t finish saying this morning followed us back and settled in the corners. He comes closer. Stops a few feet away. “You eat?” he asks. I almost laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s so him. Careful.

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