The Love that Kills me

Chapter 19

Hope dressed elegantly for the engagement party, carefully matching the theme colors: maroon and black. She wore a deep maroon evening gown that hugged her figure, its delicate embroidery shimmering under the soft lights. Stephen, beside her, looked dashing in a black suit with a maroon necktie that complemented her dress perfectly.

As they arrived at the venue, Stephen held her hand tightly, his grip both protective and possessive. The hall was already filled with music and laughter, soft lights flickering against crystal chandeliers. Hope took a deep breath, steadying her nerves as they stepped inside together.

They were greeted warmly by the newly engaged couple. Timothy, the groom-to-be, clapped Stephen on the back with a broad grin.

“Stephen! I’m glad you came,” Timothy said, his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. “I thought you’d ditch my wedding, you fucker.”

Stephen chuckled, his hand still around Hope’s. “I wouldn’t miss it, Timothy.”

Timothy’s eyes shifted to Hope, curiosity and a hint of surprise in his gaze. “And who is this lovely lady?” he asked.

Hope felt a flicker of anticipation—waiting for Stephen to introduce her properly. For him to acknowledge her openly.

But nothing came.

“This is Hope,” Stephen said simply, and that was it.

Hope smiled politely, swallowing the small ache in her chest. She looked at Timothy and said sweetly, “It’s Mrs. Hope, Mr. Timothy.”

A flash of surprise crossed Timothy’s face. “Oh, your wife. Why didn’t you say so earlier, Stephen?”

Stephen’s only response was a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The party began in earnest soon after. Laughter and the soft clinking of glasses filled the hall as guests mingled and celebrated. Hope tried to join in the merriment, but she felt a bit like an outsider. Stephen was quickly surrounded by a group of businessmen, deep in conversation about deals and numbers that left her feeling adrift.

She sat at their table, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. It had been a long time since she’d attended an event like this, and the easy elegance of the crowd only highlighted how out of place she felt.

After a while, she excused herself and made her way to the bathroom. She needed a moment to herself, to breathe and gather her thoughts. But even in the quiet sanctuary of the restroom, she found no respite.

She was in a stall when she heard the voices—two women chatting as they reapplied lipstick and fixed their hair.

“Did you see her?” one of them said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Hope? I don’t understand that girl at all.”

“I know,” the other replied with a low laugh. “She’s stuck in a marriage of convenience, and it’s so obvious that Stephen still loves Daia.”

They laughed together, the sound sharp and cruel.

“That’s why she shouldn’t even bother coming to parties like this,” one of them continued. “She’s just giving them more reasons to gossip.”

“And what do you think will happen if Daia comes back? Stephen will go to her in a heartbeat and leave Hope behind.”

“She’s just a substitute,” the first woman said, her voice light and dismissive. “Nothing more.”

Hope’s hands tightened into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. For a moment, she felt like the walls were closing in around her, the soft music outside replaced by the cold echo of their laughter.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed open the stall door and stepped out. The two women froze, their eyes wide with shock. Hope met their stares evenly, her chin held high.

“I thought I’d enjoy this night,” she said softly, her voice calm and clear despite the storm raging inside her. “But I guess not.”

She walked past them without another word, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. She wouldn’t let them see her falter. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

Back in the hall, Stephen was still deep in conversation, his laughter blending with the low murmur of the crowd. Hope moved to stand by the window, staring out at the twinkling city lights. Her reflection in the glass looked calm and composed, but she felt anything but.

She knew she shouldn’t let the gossip get to her. She knew Stephen was hers—at least for now. But those whispered words had found a crack in her heart, a tiny fissure that threatened to grow.

When Stephen finally found her, he frowned at the distant look in her eyes. “Hope? Are you okay?”

She turned to him, offering a small, forced smile. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she lied.

He studied her face for a moment, as if trying to read the truth she wasn’t saying. But the music swelled around them, and someone called his name, pulling him back into the crowd.

Hope stood there alone, her hand resting lightly on the glass, her reflection staring back at her with sad eyes. She took another steadying breath and turned away. She wouldn’t let them see her crumble.

Not tonight.