Chapter 1 The Forgotten Wife

Chapter 1:

The Forgotten Wife

Vivian's POV

The table was set. Two candles flickered gently, casting warm light across the silverware. The wine glasses sparkled, and the roast chicken I had carefully made sat untouched in the center. Everything looked perfect. Neat. Inviting. But the seat across from mine was empty. Again.

I stared at it for a long time. I tried not to think too much, but my chest felt heavy. I looked at the clock. It was almost 9 p.m. He said he'd be home by seven. I smoothed down the new dress I had bought just for tonight. Soft navy blue silk that hugged my body. I had even curled my hair, added perfume, and wore lipstick-something I hadn't done in a long time. All for him. For Grayson. But the house was quiet. Too quiet. I picked up my phone and opened our chat. No new message.

My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, then I finally typed: "Dinner's ready. Are you close?" I waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Nothing.

Then, finally, a message popped up. "Caught up in a meeting. Don't wait." Just five words. That's all he sent. No I'm sorry. No I'll make it up to you. Just Don't wait. My hand trembled as I set the phone down.

I stared at the message until the words blurred.

My throat ached. My heart felt like it had been squeezed too tight. He wasn't coming home. Again. I had lost count of how many nights I'd done this. Set the table for two. Cooked something special. Waited with hope. And ate alone. Every. Single. Time. It hadn't always been like this.

When we first got married, he used to rush home to see me. We would laugh, talk about our day, cuddle on the couch. Now, I couldn't remember the last time he touched me without looking tired... or distant. I had become... invisible. To him, I was just someone who lived in the same house. I blinked away tears and stood up. I didn't have the strength to eat. I walked to the kitchen, packed up the food, and placed it in the fridge. I glanced at my reflection in the glass oven door. I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

I wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. Something inside me felt empty. Like I was waiting for someone who didn't care if he showed up or not. I opened my phone again, more out of habit than hope. And that's when I saw it. A new photo. It was from one of those gossip pages that follow elite parties and private lounges. There he was. Grayson. At a lounge he told me he'd never go to without me. His jacket was off, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, laughing, drink in hand. Sitting beside him was her. Sasha. The woman people whispered about. The one who always showed up in the background of his events.

His "colleague." Her hand was on his arm. And he was smiling at her the way he hadn't smiled at me in months. I stared at the photo, and my stomach turned. He married me... but he drinks with her. He promised me a life... but shares it with someone else. I didn't cry right away. My eyes just stayed open, fixed on the photograph. Then, gradually, the sobs started. They came creeping down unexpectedly, wetting my cheeks, dripping onto my skirt. But I couldn't look away. It was as if the person had stabbed me right in the heart. I didn't even change my outfit.

I just went upstairs in quiet. My heels echoed in the corridor like little reminders that I was still alone. His bed untouchable.

I lay back onto my back, still wearing that navy-blue dress, makeup smeared, perfume faded. The sheets still had his scent. But he wasn't there. I turned to his pillow and buried my face into it, hoping-just hoping-he would open the door, kiss my forehead, and say, "I'm sorry. I love you." But the door stayed closed. And the silence engulfed me once again. I didn't marry him to feel this alone. I married him for love. To build something.

To possess something. But all I had was a ring on my finger and a pain in my heart. "I didn't marry him to feel this alone," I whispered into the pillow, my words little more than a sigh. And for the first time... I wondered what my life would be like without waiting for him to come back.