The Wife He Never Loved

Chapter 3

The move was quick, efficient, and cold. June managed the process with the hollow precision of someone executing a legal document. She supervised the packing of the last boxes at the old mansion, acutely aware of Ethan’s impatience.

He returned right before the movers left, finding her standing amidst the emptiness.

“I’m leaving straight from here for the final handover at the office,” Ethan stated, not pausing to look at her. His tone was dismissive. “It’s my last day at the work. My car will take you to the new address. Ensure the movers place everything where it belongs.”

“The college starts the day after tomorrow,” June reminded him, her voice barely audible. “Will the arrangement stay the same? We leave and arrive separately?”

He stopped, turning his sharp gaze toward her. “Yes. We are married for a contract, June, not for public display. You will go to your classes, and I will go to mine. No one is to know. Don't risk the deal by getting sentimental.”

His words, always so clipped and final, sealed the fate of her hope. She nodded once, watching him walk away. He was already gone before the chauffeur arrived to take her to their new life. ‘Just like that day’ June thought as she saw Ethan leaving

2 Years Back

It had been nearly a week since Ethan had properly spoken to June.

She was avoiding him. He knew it. At school, she barely looked his way. During class, it was as though she’d turned invisible, her usual smile gone. Every time he called her, the phone rang endlessly until it cut off, unanswered.

At first, he’d told himself to let it go—that maybe she needed space. But the more days passed, the more restless he became. The thought of her silence gnawed at him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to see her.

So he went to her house.

When the door finally opened, what he saw froze him in place.

“Ethan…” June’s voice was barely a whisper, her body swaying like a fragile leaf in the wind. Her skin was pale, her lips drained of color. And then, before he could say a word, she collapsed.

His heart lurched. Without thinking, he caught her in his arms, lifting her effortlessly. “June! Stay with me, please.”

Carrying her upstairs, he laid her gently on her bed, pulling the blanket over her trembling body. He pressed a hand to her forehead, and his chest clenched.

“She’s burning up… Damn it, June, why didn’t you tell me?”

.

Ethan rushed to the bathroom, wetting a towel and returning to carefully place it on her forehead. He sat at her side, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, his jaw tight with worry.

“What’s wrong with you…? You’re making me worried out of my mind,” he whispered, his voice soft despite the frustration in his chest. He reached for her hand and held it tightly, his thumb caressing the back of it. “Please wake up… I can’t see you like this.”

Minutes ticked by. He changed the towel, checked her fever, whispered her name again and again as though his voice could call her back.

When her breathing steadied slightly, relief washed over him. He rushed to the kitchen, clumsily preparing porridge, something warm she could eat. His hands shook, but he managed to carry it back to her room carefully.

But when he returned, the bed was empty.

His stomach dropped.

“June? Where did you go?”

He set the bowl down and scanned the room. Then he heard it—a weak, hoarse coughing sound from the bathroom.

He bolted, throwing the door open. There she was, hunched over the sink, her small frame trembling as she vomited.

“June!” Ethan was at her side in an instant, one arm supporting her, the other rubbing gentle circles on her back. “It’s okay… I’m here. Just breathe.”

When she finally slumped in exhaustion, he lifted her again, carrying her back to the bed as though she weighed nothing.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked softly, kneeling at her side. “Did something happen? Are you hiding something from me? Please, June… just tell me.”

She turned her face away, her voice fragile.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

His frustration grew, but it wasn’t anger—it was helplessness.

“June, look at me.”

She stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the blanket.

“June, please… look at me.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.

Gently, he tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. And what he saw cut him deeper than anything else.

Hurt.

Sadness.

A loneliness so raw it made his heart ache.

“June…” His voice softened.

But before he could say another word, she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately. Her sobs shook her whole body.

For a moment, Ethan froze. His heart raced, his arms hovering uncertainly. Then, slowly, he wrapped them around her, pulling her close, holding her as tightly as he could. He rubbed her back in soothing circles, whispering words he didn’t even think about.

“It’s okay… Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time, her pain felt like it was his own.

They stayed like that, lost in the silence, their tears mingling with unspoken truths.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes red and swollen, she looked at him with a resolve that made his breath catch.

“I love you.”

The words hung in the air, shattering everything.

Ethan froze. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

June’s voice trembled, but she didn’t look away. “I love you so much, Ethan.”

His heart stopped. He wanted to say something—anything—but the weight of her confession left him speechless.

And then she said it again, louder, desperate.

“I love you, Ethan! I LOVE YOU! Not just as a friend but as someone I want to be with—”

Ethan stood abruptly. His chest ached, but his feet carried him to the door.

“W-Where are you going?” June’s voice cracked, laced with panic.

He paused at the doorway, his back to her. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“June…” His voice was cold, detached. “I have a girlfriend. I love her. Not you.”

Her heart shattered with each word, but he kept going.

“And I don’t love you. I never will.”

He didn’t turn back. He couldn’t.

“So please… forget about me.”

The door closed with a soft click, leaving June alone with her tears.

“Ethan… don’t leave me… please.” Her broken whisper echoed in the empty room.

.

Present

The new house on Cypress Road was smaller than the previous mansion but undeniably luxurious. It was a study in modern wealth—clean lines, glass walls, and minimalist, high-end fixtures. It lacked the warmth of a home, feeling more like a private, opulent cage.

June directed the movers until her head spun. The furniture and boxes were finally in place, but a knot tightened in her stomach when the foreman approached her with a clipboard.

“Ma’am, we’ve finished placing the bedroom furniture in the assigned rooms,” he said. “Mr. Hayes had specified two distinct master suites—one east, one west. We’ve put your personal belongings in the east wing, as requested.”

June felt the air punch out of her lungs. She had seen the separate floor plan, but hearing it confirmed by a stranger—a final logistical detail of her loveless marriage—was a fresh blow. Separate rooms. They weren't just living separate lives; they were occupying separate wings of the same house.

She forced a breath. “Thank you. That’s everything.”

After the movers left, June walked slowly to her assigned room on the east side. It was bright and spacious, but utterly impersonal. The western wing, Ethan’s territory, felt like a continent away. The entire house was designed to ensure they could live under the same roof without ever accidentally crossing paths.

June slumped onto the edge of her bed, the image of Ethan’s cold face and the mover’s neutral statement echoing the same truth: her love meant nothing here.

The evening settled into a profound silence. Ethan had finished his temporary job and would not be home until late, having gone out to dinner, just as he always did—alone, or perhaps with colleagues. The implication was clear: she was not invited, not wanted.

June knew he would arrive after midnight, having already eaten, and disappear immediately into his western wing. She was left alone with the silence and the endless task of unpacking.

Tired and emotionally drained, she walked out onto the small balcony of her room. The air was cool and carried the scent of fresh-cut grass. She rested her elbows on the railing, gazing out at the neighboring yard, which was separated by a low, well-maintained fence.

In that yard, a young man was engaged in a playful struggle with his small, fluffy white dog. The dog was leaping and yipping in joyful chaos, utterly delighted by whatever game they were playing. The man, dressed casually, was laughing as he wrestled the leash away from the happy creature.

His laughter was so bright and unrestrained that June momentarily forgot her own despair. It was the sound of simple, uncomplicated joy—something her house and her life utterly lacked.

He finally managed to secure the dog and stood up, running a hand through his dark brown hair. His eyes swept across the neighborhood, and then, they landed on June.

She froze, unable to move away from the railing.

The young man stopped his game. He didn't approach the fence or call out a greeting. Instead, he simply met her gaze, a small, genuine smile curving his lips—a smile that acknowledged her presence without demanding anything from her.

He held the look for only a second, a moment of warm, human connection cutting through the cold glass wall of her private luxury. Then, he turned back to his playful dog, leaving June standing alone on her silent balcony, holding onto the fragile memory of that unexpected, kind smile.

To Be Continued…