Divorced by the CEO. Desired by his rival.

The first rule of the marriage was simple. Do not fall in love. Aria broke it quietly, without meaning to, the way people drowned. Slowly. Silently. With no one noticing until it was too late. She sat alone at the long dining table, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The house was too quiet. Too perfect. The kind of silence money bought but warmth never filled. The food had gone cold a long time ago. Aria did not ask the staff to reheat it. She never did. Asking meant hoping. Hoping meant disappointment. It was almost ten. Again. Her phone vibrated gently against the polished table. A message. Working late. Do not wait up. Her fingers tightened around the phone, nails pressing lightly into her palm. She read the message twice, not because she did not understand it, but because she wanted it to feel different the second time. It did not. She placed the phone face down and smiled faintly, as if someone were watching. As if this were a test she needed to pass. This was not neglect, she reminded herself. This was the contract. One year of marriage. Public appearances when necessary. Absolute discretion. No emotional expectations. Especially no love. She remembered the day she signed the papers. The lawyer’s voice had been calm. Professional. Nathaniel Royce’s signature had been firm and quick, like this marriage meant nothing more than ink on paper. She remembered glancing at him that day, her heart tight in her chest, wondering if there was even the smallest chance this could become real. He had not looked back. “I will provide everything you need,” he had said coolly. “But I will not pretend to be a husband.” Aria had nodded. She always nodded. Now, she rose from her chair and asked the staff to clear the table. Her voice was soft. Polite. Controlled. The perfect CEO wife. Always graceful. Never demanding. Upstairs, the bedroom felt vast and empty, despite the expensive furniture and carefully chosen colors. Nathaniel’s side of the bed was untouched. Crisp sheets. Sharp edges. Cold. She changed into a silk nightdress he had never noticed and sat at the vanity, removing her earrings slowly, carefully, like each movement might break something fragile inside her. Her reflection stared back at her. Her eyes looked tired. Not from lack of sleep. From waiting. She had told herself she would not wait. Not for his calls. Not for his footsteps in the hallway. Not for his attention. But hearts were foolish things. They did not understand contracts or clauses or deadlines. They only understood hope. The sound of the front door echoed faintly through the house. Her breath caught before she could stop it. Footsteps. Her heart reacted before her mind could remind it not to. The bedroom door opened. Nathaniel walked in, loosening his tie as if she were part of the furniture. Tall. Impeccably dressed. His presence filled the room without effort. “You are late,” Aria said softly, the words slipping out before she could swallow them back. He paused, just briefly. “I told you not to wait.” “I was not waiting.” The lie sat heavy on her tongue. Nathaniel finally glanced at her, his gaze flicking over her like he was assessing something of little importance. “You should sleep,” he said. No warmth. No irritation. Just finality. He turned toward the bathroom. Aria watched his back, the distance between them stretching wider than the room itself. “Nathaniel,” she whispered. He stopped. “What happens when the contract ends?” The air went still. Then he answered, calm and effortless, as if he were discussing the weather. “We divorce.” No pause. No regret. No emotion. Just certainty. Something inside her cracked, quietly, the way glass fractured under pressure without shattering completely. She nodded again. That was what she did best. “Good night,” she said. He did not respond. As the bathroom door closed, Aria sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her hand against her chest, breathing through the ache she was never allowed to show. One year. She told herself she could survive one year. She did not yet know that the divorce would hurt less than realizing she had loved a man who never even tried.