A Wife in Name, Forgotten in Love

Chapter Four

The promotion didn’t feel real until the next morning.

My name sat at the head of the agenda email.

Project Lead.

I stared at it for a long moment before closing my laptop. This was what I had worked for. Long nights. Silent dinners. Swallowed feelings. It had to mean something.

Ethan had already left for work.

I can’t be late either.

By the time I reached the office, I felt steadier. Grounded.

That steadiness lasted exactly forty minutes.

The executive boardroom was colder than usual. Glass walls. Clean lines. Sharp expectations.

“I’ll be direct,” the regional director said. “We’ve secured a potential partnership with Maris Global Holdings. If this goes through, it doubles our market expansion within the year.”

My pulse quickened.

“And you’ll be leading negotiations, Ava.”

Every eye in the room shifted toward me.

Maris Global.

I had heard of them. Powerful. Selective. Ruthless in contracts.

A woman slid a folder toward me.

“Our contact,” the director continued, “is their Chief Strategy Officer. Very sharp. Very decisive.”

I opened the folder.

Elena Varga.

Her photo was clipped neatly inside.

Dark hair. Composed smile. Intelligent eyes that gave nothing away.

Female. Young. Impressive.

“Initial meeting is this Friday,” he said. “Don’t disappoint us.”

No pressure.

Back at my desk, I studied everything about Maris Global. Their acquisition patterns. Their expansion tactics. Their negotiation style.

Elena Varga had built her reputation on restructuring failing partnerships into profitable ones. Calculated. Strategic. Emotionally detached.

I felt something tighten in my chest.

This wasn’t just a meeting. This was a test.

By late afternoon, Clara leaned against my office door.

“So,” she said, grinning. “Big boss energy. How does it feel?”

“Terrifying,” I admitted.

She laughed. “Good. That means you care.”

I told her about the partnership. About Elena.

Clara whistled. “Maris Global? That’s major. You land this, you’re untouchable.”

Untouchable.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt that way.

***

Friday arrived faster than I expected.

Elena entered the conference room precisely on time.

She wore confidence like a tailored suit.

“Ava,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ve heard impressive things.”

Her grip was firm.

“And I’ve read impressive things,” I replied.

Her smile deepened slightly — approval, perhaps.

The meeting was intense. Numbers. Projections. Counter-offers. Silence used as leverage. She was good. Very good.

But so was I.

When I challenged one of her restructuring conditions, her eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

“Most leads don’t push back,” she said calmly.

“I’m not most leads,” I replied.

For the first time, something like respect flickered in her eyes.

By the end of the session, we had a tentative agreement.

Not signed.

But close.

When she left, the boardroom buzzed with approval.

The director clapped once. “Excellent work.”

Clara squeezed my arm afterward. “We’re celebrating tonight. Non-negotiable.”

“I have things to do,” I started.

“Promotion. Major partnership. You’re coming.”

And for once, I didn’t argue.

***

The restaurant was warm, dimly lit, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. A few colleagues joined. Drinks flowed. Compliments were repeated.

“To Ava,” Clara declared, raising her glass. “Proof that hard work wins.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

A server placed a plate in front of me — grilled seafood in a rich, buttery sauce.

The smell hit me.

Sudden.

Overwhelming.

My stomach turned violently.

The room tilted slightly.

“You okay?” Clara asked.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just… maybe too much excitement.”

But the nausea intensified. Sharp. Immediate.

I pushed the plate away.

“I think I need air.”

Clara was beside me instantly, guiding me outside.

Cool night air hit my face, but it didn’t fully settle the churning inside me.

It wasn’t the first time this week.

Clara studied me carefully. “Ava… are you sure this is just excitement?”

My fingers tightened around my purse.

“I’m fine,” I insisted too quickly.

She didn’t push. She never did.

“Alright,” she said softly. “But I’m taking you home.”

The ride was quiet.

City lights streaked past the window like unanswered questions. Clara drove steadily, one hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning slightly in my direction without saying a word.

She had always been like that.

Thoughtful without announcing it.

I leaned my head lightly against the seat and let the hum of the engine calm me.

It was strange, I thought, how life placed certain people beside you.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” I murmured softly in the car.

Clara snorted. “I’m not babysitting. I’m ensuring my project lead doesn’t faint dramatically and ruin my evening.”

I smiled faintly.

Gratitude swelled quietly in my chest — for friendships that grew slowly, for people who stayed without demanding closeness, for the kind of loyalty that didn’t need to be loud.

City lights blurred past the window. My hand rested unconsciously over my abdomen.

Clara parked outside my building.

“Text me when you’re inside,” she said.

“I will, goodnight.”

I stepped out carefully, moving more slowly than usual.

Inside the apartment, I kicked off my heels. Dropped my purse on the console.

And then my eyes drifted toward the bedroom.

The drawer.

The test.

For days, I had convinced myself it was nothing. Stress. Skipped meals. Late nights.

But my body wasn’t subtle tonight.

I walked into the bedroom slowly, each step heavier than the last.

The drawer slid open with a soft sound.

The test lay exactly where I had left it.

My heart began to pound — not violently, but steadily. Certain.

“No more guessing,” I whispered.

Minutes later, I stood in the bathroom, staring down at the small white stick resting on the sink.

Time thickened.

I closed my eyes.

Then opened them.

And looked.