Chapter 1

The relationship I had with Mark was strange, and everyone knew it.

For five years, we were the perfect couple in everyone' s eyes. He was a promising artist, and I was a talented interior designer. We looked good together.

But for five years, he had never once talked about marrying me.

The problem wasn't him, he said. The problem was Olivia.

Olivia was his sister-in-law, the widow of his deceased brother, David.

"Sarah, you know David was my favorite person in the world," Mark would say, his voice full of a sadness that I now realize was completely fake.

"His only regret was not having a child with Olivia. He wanted his bloodline to continue."

"I have to fulfill his dying wish. It's my duty as his brother."

His duty, as he explained it, was to have a child with Olivia.

He was sleeping with his brother's wife.

He would spend his nights in her bed, trying to get her pregnant, while I waited for him in the large, empty apartment we shared.

The apartment I had designed for us. For our future.

"Just wait, Sarah," he would plead, holding my face in his hands. "Just wait until Olivia gets pregnant. Once she has the baby, I will marry you immediately. I promise."

I believed him.

So I waited.

I counted the nights he spent with her. One night, two nights, ten nights.

The number grew, a silent testament to my foolishness.

I endured fifty-nine nights of him coming home in the early morning, the scent of Olivia' s perfume clinging to his clothes. Fifty-nine nights of me pretending to be asleep, my heart a cold, heavy stone in my chest.

On the sixtieth day, Olivia announced she was pregnant.

Mark was ecstatic. He burst into our apartment, his face glowing with a joy I had never seen before. He lifted me up and spun me around, laughing.

"She's pregnant, Sarah! It finally happened! We can get married now!"

He looked into my eyes, his own shining with what I thought were tears of happiness.

"One week, Sarah. Give me one week to settle things with my family, and then we'll get married. I'll give you the wedding you've always dreamed of."

I cried. I thought my years of waiting had finally paid off. I thought my love had conquered this bizarre, painful obstacle.

That same night, he threw a massive party to celebrate the pregnancy. He invited all of our friends, his family, and the city's socialites.

He stood on a small stage, a microphone in his hand, with Olivia standing beside him, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach.

I stood in the crowd, smiling, waiting for him to announce our wedding.

"Tonight is a special night," Mark said, his voice booming through the speakers. "We are here to celebrate a new life, a continuation of my brother's legacy."

He turned to Olivia, his eyes filled with an adoration that made my stomach churn.

Then, he got down on one knee.

He pulled out a diamond ring, far larger and more brilliant than the one he had casually shown me in a magazine months ago.

"Olivia," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Will you marry me?"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Champagne corks popped. People swarmed them, offering congratulations.

I stood frozen in place.

The noise of the party faded into a dull roar in my ears. The smiling faces blurred into a meaningless collage of color.

I couldn't feel anything. I was numb.

So this was the end of my five-year wait. This was the reward for my fifty-nine nights of lonely endurance.

A public humiliation.

I turned around and walked out of the party. No one noticed. I walked through the city streets, the cold night air doing nothing to clear my head.

When I got back to our apartment, the first thing I did was book a flight. A one-way ticket to a country on the other side of the world.

Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in five years.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Sarah?"

My grandfather's voice, old and steady, was the first thing that made me feel real again.

Tears finally started to fall down my face.

"Grandpa," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm ready to come home."