Divorced by the Billionaire, Mated to the Alpha

Aria Nora “Is he even going to show up tonight?” I whispered, checking the clock again for what felt like the hundredth time. Every minute that passed made my chest feel heavier. The candles flickered gently, casting soft light over the white tablecloth. I had set everything up for our anniversary dinner. The roast lamb sat in the middle of the table, filling the room with the smell of rosemary and fresh roses. I spent hours making sure everything was perfect. I lit the candles, cooked his favorite meal, even played the song from our first date. Tonight was supposed to matter. Three years together should mean something. It was 8:30. I tugged at the strap of my red silk dress. He once told me I looked beautiful in it. I held on to that memory, hoping it still meant something. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe I would finally see the version of him I used to believe in. The man I had loved since the day our parents introduced us. He never loved me the way I loved him. But I kept hoping. Then came Ava. I pushed that thought away. It wasn’t the time for that. He always came home eventually. Maybe tonight would be the same. At 9:00, the front door slammed shut. My heart jumped. I felt a wave of relief, mixed with nerves. I stood up, brushed down my dress, and quickly checked my hair in the hallway mirror. “You’re late,” I said. I tried to keep my voice calm, but it trembled a little. Zane walked in looking like he always did. Clean suit. Neatly tied tie. But there was something different about him tonight. His shoulders seemed heavy. His eyes didn’t meet mine. “Got stuck at work,” he said, pulling at his tie the way he always did. I nodded and tried not to sound upset. “I made dinner,” I said, gesturing to the table. “It’s our anniversary, Zane.” He paused and looked at the table. His face didn’t change. Then he said, “Oh. Right. Happy anniversary.” His voice was flat, like the words didn’t mean anything. I forced a smile, even though it hurt. I stepped closer and reached for his arm, hoping he might hold me or say something kind. But then I smelled it. A soft scent. Sweet. Floral. Not mine. Not his either. I froze. “You smell... different,” I said. The words came out quietly, almost like I didn’t mean to say them at all. Zane frowned and looked down at me, his eyes a little cold. “It's nothing. I was at a meeting. Someone there must’ve worn too much perfume.” “A meeting?” I said, trying to hide the way my chest tightened. “Right. Sure.” I forced a smile and stepped back, nodding toward the table. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” I tried to keep the conversation going, but it felt one-sided. His answers were short, like he didn’t really want to talk. He didn’t look at me. He just kept his eyes on the food, as if it was the only thing that mattered. I poked at my plate, not really eating. I wasn’t hungry anymore. He didn’t ask how my day went or notice the effort I put into making tonight feel special. The silence stretched between us, growing heavier by the minute. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you even remember our wedding day?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “The way I walked down the aisle... the vows we said?” Zane looked up, his expression blank. “Of course. It was... nice.” Nice. That’s what he called it. The best day of my life, and all he could say was that it was nice. I felt the sting behind my eyes but tried not to cry. I looked down and dragged my fork across the food. “I remember everything,” I said quietly. “The white dress, the roses... the way you looked at me when I reached you at the altar. I kept wishing you’d really look at me. Not just glance. Actually see me. Maybe if you had... things would’ve turned out differently.” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The silence already answered me. “Zane,” I whispered, feeling my throat tighten again. “Do you ever think about... Ava?” Just saying her name hurt. He tensed. His jaw tightened and a crease formed on his forehead. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t say a word. So I kept talking. “You think I don’t care? I’ve loved you since the day they told us we’d be married. I didn’t even understand love back then, but I still wanted yours. I hoped maybe you’d grow to like me, at least. But all you ever did was love her.” Ava. My younger sister. The one he gave his heart to. Even after she was gone. His hand wrapped around his glass, holding it so tight his knuckles turned white. “I’m done for tonight,” he muttered, pushing his chair back. The chair scraped loudly against the floor. He stood up and walked away without another word. I didn’t stop him. I just sat there, staring at the flickering candles. The wax dripped slowly, making strange little shapes on the tablecloth. The silence wrapped around me like a blanket made of bricks. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. It felt like I was sinking, and no one even noticed. --- Later that night, I found myself outside his study. The door was slightly open, just enough for a thin strip of light to spill into the hallway. My feet felt heavy, but I pushed the door open anyway. It creaked. The sound echoed through the quiet house like a warning. “Zane?” I whispered. I didn’t expect him to answer. But I still hoped. No reply. He was sitting at his desk, slouched over, his back to me. There was something in his hand. As I stepped closer, I saw what it was, a photo. My hands started to shake. I felt a wave of panic rise in my chest. It was Ava. She was smiling in the picture. “Who’s that?” I asked. My voice came out smaller than I meant. Zane jumped and quickly hid the photo behind his back. “Aria,” he said. His voice was rough, like he hadn’t spoken all day. “What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms, trying to hold myself together. “You first. What are you hiding?” “Nothing,” he said too quickly. He slid the photo under a book. “You should go to bed.” I didn’t move. My throat was tight. “You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?” He opened his mouth, maybe to deny it, but I didn’t give him the chance. “Do you even see me, Zane? Or am I just someone you use to forget her?” The room went silent. He looked away, his eyes fixed on the floor like it held all the answers. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I felt my knees weaken, but I stayed standing. My eyes burned. My voice cracked when I spoke again. “You don’t care, do you? Not really. Not about me. Not about us.” “Aria...” I turned toward the door. And then I heard it. A word. So quiet I almost missed it. “Ava.” I froze. He wasn’t calling me. He was calling her. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I walked away. That one word hurt more than anything he could have said. He didn’t love me. Not the way I needed him to. Not the way I loved him. He was still holding on to her. And I would never be enough. I made it back to the bedroom, no, my bedroom. It had never really been ours. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The red dress I wore to make him notice me hung on my body like it didn’t belong. My makeup was ruined. My eyes looked empty. Three years. Three years of trying to be enough. Of hoping he’d look at me the way he looked at her in that photo. Three years of being second. I took off the dress and changed into my pajamas. Then I lay down on my side of the bed. The other side stayed cold and untouched, like always. Tomorrow, I’d wake up, put on a smile, and pretend again. Pretend to be the perfect wife to a man still chasing a ghost. But tonight, I let the truth break me. I let myself feel it, the heartbreak, the anger, the loneliness. Because there’s nothing worse than loving someone who loves someone else. And I didn’t know how much more of it I could take.