The Love that Kills me

I’m Hope—the wife of the well-known engineer Stephen Kingsley, the firstborn of the prestigious Kingsley family. I’ve known him since I was a child, our fathers sharing a bond that went beyond friendship. They were like brothers, partners in both business and life. From as early as I can remember, Stephen was always there—a part of my world, even if he didn’t always see me. I still remember the first time I truly noticed him. We were at a family picnic, and he was helping his father set up the barbecue. He was so tall, so confident even then. His smile was captivating, and his eyes had that hint of mischief, like he knew more than the rest of us. From that day, he became the star of my daydreams. Handsome, kind of rugged with that bad-boy charm—he was everything my heart craved. As the years went by, my feelings only grew. In my childish mind, he was my prince—the one who would sweep me off my feet and make me his. But as I grew older, I realized that while he was a constant figure in my life, I was just another face in the crowd to him. He was always surrounded by people—friends, admirers, girls who would do anything for his attention. And I was just… me. I wanted to confess to him so many times. I imagined the moment over and over: me standing in front of him, my heart in my hands, telling him that I’d loved him since I was a girl. But fate had a cruel way of twisting things. Stephen wasn’t mine to love—he was my cousin Daia’s boyfriend. Daia was everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful, poised, and strong-willed. She didn’t care for money or status; she wanted a love that was real and true. She always said marriage should be a choice, not an obligation—a sentiment that set her apart from the rest of us. But our family didn’t believe in fairy tales. In the Kingsley and Montemayor families, marriages were contracts—strategic alliances meant to strengthen bloodlines and business empires. When Stephen’s father approached my father with the idea of a union through marriage, Daia refused. She wouldn’t let her future be dictated by old men and family legacies. She believed in love, in following her heart. But her refusal left a void—one my father was all too happy to fill. And so, the offer fell to me. My father accepted on my behalf without so much as a word of protest from me. After all, wasn’t this what I’d always wanted? To be Stephen’s wife, to be the one he woke up next to every morning? I convinced myself it was destiny. I told myself that maybe, just maybe, this was my chance to turn my dreams into reality. Daia tried to stop it. She confronted my father, pleaded with him to reconsider. “Hope deserves more than a forced marriage,” she said. “Stephen deserves to marry someone he loves.” But her words fell on deaf ears. In our family, money weighed more than love, and no amount of pleading would change that. At first, I was excited. I tried to see the best in it. I was about to marry the man I’d loved from afar for so long. I let myself believe that once we were husband and wife, he’d see me differently. He’d see the woman who’d loved him in silence for years—the woman who had always been there, waiting. The night of our engagement party was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. I wore a dress that shimmered like moonlight, my hair perfectly styled, my smile as bright as the stars. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I kept my eyes on the entrance, waiting for him to appear, hoping that tonight would be the night he’d finally see me. And then he was there. Stephen, looking impossibly handsome in his tailored suit. His presence commanded the room, every eye drawn to him as he walked in. My breath caught in my throat when our eyes met. For a brief, fleeting moment, I thought I saw something there—something tender, something real. He walked over to me, and for a second, my heart soared. Maybe this was it. Maybe he’d take my hand, smile at me, and tell me that everything would be alright. But instead, he leaned in close, his voice low and cold. “Don’t be too happy about this,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I might be agreeing to this, but once I get what belongs to me, I’ll end this farce. Marriage, paper, and you—consider it all gone. And you don’t have a choice but to agree, just like you agreed to this marriage in the first place. Welcome to the wild ride, Mrs. Hope Kingsley.” His words cut through me like a blade. My breath caught in my chest, my pulse quickening with panic. I wanted to believe he was joking, that this was some kind of cruel prank. But the coldness in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He meant every word. I forced a smile, even as my world shattered around me. I had dreamed of this moment for so long, but the reality was nothing like the fantasy I’d built in my head. He didn’t see me as his bride. He saw me as a pawn in a game I didn’t even understand. The rest of the party passed in a blur. I smiled and nodded at well-wishers, accepted their congratulations with trembling hands. Inside, I was falling apart. Stephen stayed by my side, his hand on my back, his touch as cold as ice. Every time he spoke to me, his words were laced with bitterness, a constant reminder that I was nothing more than a placeholder in his life. When the night finally ended, I locked myself in my room and let the tears come. I cried for the girl I used to be, for the dreams I’d built and the love I’d imagined. I cried for the realization that the man I loved didn’t love me back—and maybe never would. In the days that followed, I tried to find hope in the small things. I told myself that maybe, in time, Stephen would see me differently. Maybe he’d learn to love me, or at least care for me a little. But deep down, I knew better. His words had been clear, his intentions laid bare. He would play the dutiful husband until he got what he wanted—and then he’d leave me behind without a second thought. I didn’t know what belonged to him that he needed so badly, but I knew one thing for certain: I was just a means to an end. And no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise, no amount of wishing would change that. Still, I held onto the memories of the boy he used to be—the boy who had captured my heart all those years ago. Maybe there was still a sliver of that boy left inside the man he’d become. Maybe, if I could reach him, I could find a way to make him see me. Maybe, against all odds, this forced marriage could become something real. Or maybe I was just fooling myself. As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to myself: I would survive this. No matter how cold Stephen’s heart was, no matter how much he tried to push me away, I wouldn’t let this marriage break me. I would find a way to endure—even if it meant burying my love for him deep inside, where it could never be used against me. Because even though he’d turned my dream into a nightmare, I was still Hope Montemayor. And I refused to let my heart be the thing that destroyed me.