For the past three years, our marriage had looked almost normal.
Even though it was never made public, we lived together like any other husband and wife.
We talked about simple things. Work. Daily plans. Small worries that did not really matter.
Every morning, I helped Alexander choose his clothes.
I would stand in front of him, carefully picking his suit, straightening his collar, and tying his tie while he watched me with calm, unreadable eyes.
It became a habit.
A quiet kind of closeness that I treasured.
After that, we left the house together and went to the company.
In the evenings, if he had dinners or meetings, he always informed me in advance.
And at night…
He would ask me to stay.
We shared the same bed, the same silence, the same warmth that made me believe we were truly husband and wife.
Sometimes, we even relaxed together in a private hot spring bath.
Every night ended the same way.
A soft goodnight kiss.
It never changed.
On birthdays, anniversaries, and special days, he prepared gifts for me without fail.
Whenever I mentioned something I liked, he remembered.
He made ordinary days feel… meaningful.
Warm.
Because of all this, I believed our life would continue like that forever.
Until Isabella returned.
After hearing his words about divorce, everything started to replay in my mind.
The woman’s voice on the phone.
The way he said he had already left the airport.
The cold distance in his tone.
Slowly, the truth formed.
That woman…
It must have been Isabella Blackwood.
A sharp pain spread through my chest.
Had she already come back into his life long ago?
Had they been in contact behind my back?
Did they meet overseas?
Did he spend last night with her instead of coming home to me?
Each thought felt like a blade, cutting deeper than the last.
“Even if we divorce,” Alexander said calmly, “you will still be part of the Hawthorne family.”
I looked at him.
“I will treat you like a sister.”
Sister.
The word hit me harder than anything else.
For three years, I had been his wife.
I had shared his life. His bed. His name.
And now…
He wanted to reduce everything to that single word.
I forced a small smile, even though my chest felt like it was being crushed.
“We can talk later,” I said softly.
Because I knew if I stayed any longer, I would lose control.
“What did you want to tell me earlier?” he asked.
I lowered my gaze to the document in my hands.
For a moment, I almost told him.
About the baby.
About the life growing inside me.
About the happiness I had been holding onto since yesterday.
But in the end…
I swallowed those words.
“It’s just about the new collection launch,” I said quietly. “I already handled it.”
Some things no longer needed to be said.
He gave a short nod.
“You did well.”
His tone was flat.
Professional.
Distant.
As if I was nothing more than an employee.
“I will go to work first,” I said, turning away quickly.
Before the tears in my eyes could fall.
“I will go with you,” he replied.
He walked upstairs to change.
My chest tightened.
He could calmly talk about work… after asking me for a divorce.
Just like that.
As if nothing had happened.
As if I meant nothing at all.
“It’s better if we don’t go together,” I said when he came back down.
“We are getting divorced soon.”
Before he could respond, I walked out.
Inside the car, I did not start the engine.
My hands trembled as I opened social media.
I did not know what I was looking for.
Until I found it.
A post from Victor Sinclair.
A table filled with expensive wine.
Crystal glasses reflecting soft golden light.
And beneath it…
A caption.
Welcome back, Isabella.
Celebrating Alexander’s upcoming wedding.
My vision blurred instantly.
Tears dropped onto my phone screen.
So it was true.
The moment he landed…
He went straight to her.
While I waited at the airport like a fool.
For three years, our marriage had been hidden.
His friends did not know I was his wife.
To them…
I was nothing more than an adopted sister.
A knock on my window startled me.
“Madam?” James called out.
I quickly wiped my tears.
“I’m fine,” I said, starting the engine.
At the office, I buried myself in work.
I sent him project files.
He replied shortly.
Approved.
No extra words.
No warmth.
That evening, he sent a message.
“I have plans. Go home first.”
I stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
“Okay.”
Later, another message came.
“I brought you a gift. It’s in my suitcase.”
I did not ask what it was.
I only replied with a short “Thank you.”
As I left the office, I heard whispers.
“A beautiful woman came to see the CEO today…”
“They say it’s Isabella Blackwood…”
“She looks perfect with him…”
My steps slowed.
But I did not stop.
I was afraid.
Afraid of seeing something I could not bear.
More whispers followed.
“Miss Hawthorne is so capable…”
“She really deserves better…”
“But isn’t she just his sister?”
I kept walking.
As if I heard nothing.
When I reached the underground parking lot, I finally looked up.
And then…
I saw them.
Alexander stood not far away.
Wearing the white suit I had chosen for him that morning.
The red tie I had carefully picked.
Beside him was a woman.
A mask and cap covered her face, but I did not need to see clearly.
Her arm was wrapped around his.
She leaned close to him, speaking softly.
Playfully.
Intimately.
And Alexander…
Listened.
With a faint smile on his lips.
A kind of expression I had never seen before.
In that moment, I understood everything.
The red tie felt like a silent mockery.
I had chosen it to celebrate our child.
Our future.
But now…
He wore it while standing beside another woman.
The distance between us had never felt so wide.
I stood there, watching them.
My heart slowly turning empty.