When we Forgot the War

Eva’s POV The sun had barely risen when my eyes fluttered open. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner. Then I rolled gently to the other side of the bed, stretching my limbs, trying to ease the stiffness in my back. The bed beneath me felt huge. A mattress meant for two, yet it had felt empty for months. My fingers brushed over the cold pillow beside me, untouched, perfect, undisturbed, just like every other morning. Ray hadn't slept here. Again. By now, I had stopped asking questions. I had stopped wondering where he went, or if he even came home at all. Curiosity was a luxury I couldn't afford anymore. Pain had taught me that some answers bruise harder than silence. I inhaled slowly and forced myself to sit up. Our marriage was no longer a marriage. Just two wounded strangers living under one roof, pretending not to see the cracks spreading between us. Pretending we hadn't once loved so deeply that it almost destroyed us. We were alive but not living. Together, but painfully alone. Dragging myself from the bed, I walked into the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and tried to feel something, but numbness had settled into my bones a long time ago. When I returned to the mirror in the bedroom, I stared at my reflection. A long stare.Too long. I applied foundation slowly, watching my complexion even out, watching color return to my cheeks.I traced eyeliner along my lashes. Blended shadows onto my eyelids. Dabbed gloss on my lips, but nothing helped. No matter how much makeup I applied, I didn't feel beautiful. Not anymore. A small, broken laugh escaped my throat as I leaned closer and whispered to myself, “If I'm beautiful,why doesn't he see me?” My reflection had no answer. Because deep down, I knew the truth. Beauty didn't matter, not to Ray at least. Not to a man who never truly loved me. Our marriage was built on lies, all lies. I was forced into this marriage by my father; it was a business alliance dressed up as a fairy tale. And like the obedient daughter I was, I let them choose my fate even though my heart belonged to someone else. Martins. My true love. The man I wanted. The man I planned to be with forever. But my parents never approved. I wasn’t allowed to marry for love, only for power, reputation, and advantage. Ray was the perfect choice for them. Handsome, ambitious, strategic. And he played the part of a devoted lover so well that I actually believed him until after the wedding. Until I discovered that I wasn't the woman he loved.I wasn't even a woman he liked.I was an investment, a gateway to my father's wealth. “Sleeping and waking up by your side is my biggest punishment.”Those words were so sharp and cruel. He said them during our last fight, the fight that ended everything. Since that day, we no longer shared the same room. He avoided me like a disease. And I simply learned how to breathe with the ache. I finished my makeup, fixed my hair, and walked out of the room like a stranger in my own home. Our house was massive indeed, with tall glass walls, marble floors, and chandeliers that probably cost more than some cars. Everything glittered. Everything shone, and everything looked perfect. But this perfection felt like poison. This house was beautiful, but it felt like hell. I sat at the dining table. It stretched across the room, long, elegant, expensive, but cold, like everything else here. I was waiting for breakfast when, suddenly, Ray walked out of the kitchen in my imagination, smiling warmly, his hair messy and his eyes soft. He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “Hey, baby, good morning,” he'd say. “I made your favorite. I want you to have the best day at work.” A small smile escaped my lips as my eyes filled with warmth. I reached out, almost touching the image before me,but then it disappeared. The real sight returned, the maids quietly arranging plates. No Ray. No smile. No warmth. Just reality. My smile fell instantly. I swallowed hard and shifted in my seat, pushing down the embarrassment and sadness. How pathetic.How miserable that I missed the days he pretended to love me. If Ray was going to marry me out of false love, he could have at least acted until the very end. My chest tightened as I forced myself to eat. Each cut of the steak felt like releasing anger, fear, heartbreak, and everything trapped inside me. Then I heard footsteps. He slowly walked down the stairs, dressed in a charcoal suit that hugged his tall frame perfectly. He looked stunning. Sharper than ever. More handsome than the first day I met him. And I hated myself for noticing. For caring. For loving someone who treated me like dust beneath his shoes. I forced my eyes down. Pretended he wasn't there. He didn't bother greeting me. Of course, he didn't. The silence between us was thick and sharp. It wrapped around the room like a storm waiting to happen. I tried to eat. I tried to breathe. But his presence made everything harder. Then my phone vibrated. It was Martins. “Hi, my love. Wish you a morning as beautiful as the air I breathe. I can't wait to see you at work. I planned something special”. I sighed. Long and deep. Martins never stopped loving me. Even after I broke his heart by marrying Ray. Even after I pushed him away. He still tried every possible way to be close to me. But nothing about this felt romantic anymore. Everything felt messy, wrong, heavy. I dropped the phone, feeling Ray's eyes burning into me. He stared so intensely I felt it on my skin. I ignored him, but the air became so awkward my fingers trembled slightly. My phone started ringing, and it was Martins, of course. He called every morning, every night. Even when Ray and I still shared a room. I once begged him to stop, but after discovering that Ray only married me for money, I stopped caring. Martins kept calling, and Ray kept hating. And I kept breaking. I picked up the call. “Hello”. The moment the word left my mouth, Ray slammed his fork and knife onto the table. Hard. The sound echoed violently. He stood abruptly, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and muttered, “I lost my appetite.” And just like that, he walked away. I blinked in confusion. What did I do now? What crime did I commit this time? He got angry over everything. Over nothing. Not a day passed without him searching for a reason to fight. Maybe the silence was better. Better than screaming. Better than hurting. I watched him leave, and my heart cracked, a slow, quiet c***k that hurt more than any loud heartbreak. He didn't even remember what today was. Our anniversary. Three years of marriage. Three years of chaos. Three years of drowning. Even if we'd fought for months, a small part of me had hoped foolishly that today would be different. That maybe he'd say something. Anything. Even a cold “Congratulations.”Just something. But no. I expected too much from a man who saw me as a burden. I grabbed my things and left the house, forcing down the tears that burned behind my eyes. At the office, every staff member bowed as I walked through the hallway. I nodded stiffly. Even here, I was respected, admired, and looked up to. But in my own home, in my own marriage, I was invisible. I entered my office with a heavy heart, only to freeze. Roses.A huge bouquet of red roses. My favorite. Placed right on my desk. My eyes widened. My breath hitched. A small card lay at the bottom. “Happy Anniversary”.No name. But I knew, I just knew. Ray. It had to be Ray. He used to do this. During the early days. Before the lies, before the fights, before the truth destroyed us. He always sent roses. A tremor ran through me. Tears blurred my vision. I picked up the bouquet, hugging it tightly. “Oh God…” My voice broke as the scent washed over me. Hope. I felt hope. A foolish, desperate hope. Maybe he remembered. Maybe he cared. Maybe just maybe. He wanted us back. I rushed out of the office, heart pounding, tears falling, but my smile was bright and raw. I didn't care about the past anymore. I didn't care about the lies. I didn't care about anything except the man who once loved me so beautifully. I wanted to hold him. Kiss him. Tell him I missed him. Tell him I still loved him. Tell him I was sorry for everything. Tell him I wanted us back. I ran, almost tripping in my heels, my heart soaring higher and higher. I pushed open the door to Ray's office without knocking. I was smiling until I wasn't. The sight before me sent a shockwave through my body. Ray, my husband. Sitting in his office chair, with his secretary on his lap. Her hands wrapped around his neck. His arms were around her waist like she belonged there. I froze. Completely. My breath caught. My heart stopped. The flowers fell from my hands, scattering across the floor. Ray and the secretary turned toward me. His eyes widened, not with guilt, but with irritation. My legs trembled. My throat tightened painfully. My heart, my poor, foolish heart, fell apart in my chest. There was no going back. Not after this. Not ever. And in that moment, I finally understood that our marriage wasn't dying. It was already dead. And the person who killed it was right in front of me, holding another woman like she was everything I wasn't.