Delia’s POV
I didn’t touch the food. The plate sat in front of me, untouched and growing cold, steam long gone, the carefully arranged meal reduced to decoration just like me. Julian’s chair across the table was already empty, pushed back and abandoned, a quiet reminder that he had left without looking back. I stared at the plate for a few seconds, my hands resting uselessly on either side of it, my appetite completely gone, my body too tight with shock to remember how to breathe properly.
Already married.
The words replayed in my head again and again, each time cutting deeper, peeling away another layer of illusion I had carefully built around myself. I had walked into that restaurant believing. No, hoping that this was the moment everything would change. That he would finally look at
