Chapter 4 : The Other Woman
1096 Words
Henrietta’s POV
"If I had been told three months ago that I'd find myself falling for Raphael, I'd never believe it."
Three months ago, I never would have imagined this.
Back then, I had been desperate, willing to do anything to save my brother. And now, he was safe, studying in another city, walking on his own two feet again. That was all that mattered… or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
But the truth was, something else had changed—I had changed.
I didn’t know when or how it had happened, but somewhere along the line, I had started falling for my husband.
It was foolish, I knew that.
This marriage wasn’t real. It was a business deal, a transaction that benefited us both. I had agreed to it knowing that Raphael Gold didn’t believe in love. That he was only doing this because of the ultimatum his father had given him.
And yet, I had convinced myself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different.
Raphael wasn’t a terrible husband, at least not in front of his father. He played the role well, holding my hand at events, pressing light kisses to my forehead when people were watching, and wrapping his arm around my waist like I actually meant something to him.
But the moment we were alone, it was like I didn’t exist.
He kept his distance, barely spoke to me unless necessary, and always reminded me of the line between us.
*"This marriage is only on paper, Henrietta. Don’t cross the line."*
But I already had.
That’s why I still tried, despite everything. I made his favorite meals, brought him lunch at work, and even did things I didn’t have to—like folding his laundry, making sure everything was in place for him.
I wanted him to see me.
To really see me.
And I had been holding on to the hope that one day, he would.
Until tonight.
Until I saw the message.
---
I was standing in our bedroom, neatly folding Raphael’s shirts and placing them in his wardrobe when his phone vibrated on the nightstand.
I ignored it at first, assuming it was something work-related. But then, the screen lit up again, and my eyes caught the message preview.
*"Raphael… I've missed you."*
I froze.
My hands trembled slightly as I stared at the words on the screen, my mind struggling to process them.
I knew I shouldn’t touch his phone. I knew it.
But my fingers moved before I could stop myself, reaching for the device.
The message was still there. A single sentence, but one that made my stomach drop.
Who was she?
How long had she been in his life?
Had she been there before we got married… or after?
My throat tightened.
I had spent months trying to make this marriage real, convincing myself that Raphael just needed time. That if I was patient enough, he would eventually let me in.
But I had been wrong.
So, so wrong.
Because the truth was, he had never been mine to begin with.
I sucked in a shaky breath, my grip on the phone tightening.
A part of me wanted to believe it was nothing, that it wasn’t what it looked like. But deep down, I already knew the answer.
I had been fighting for something that never existed.
And it hurt.
It really hurt.
The sound of water shutting off in the bathroom jolted me back to reality.
Panic shot through me.
I had to put the phone down.
I had to act normal.
But before I could move, the bathroom door swung open.
And there stood Raphael, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, water still dripping from his damp hair.
His sharp gaze landed on me instantly.
And then his eyes dropped to the phone in my hand.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
A heavy, suffocating silence that made my heart hammer painfully against my ribs.
Then his expression hardened.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it.
I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Your phone was buzzing. I—I didn’t mean to look, but I saw the message.”
His jaw clenched, and in two strides, he closed the distance between us, plucking the phone from my grip. He glanced at the screen, and something flickered across his face—something unreadable.
"Henrietta," he said, his voice lower this time. "You shouldn't be touching my things."
I let out a humorless laugh, stepping back. “That’s what you’re worried about? Not the fact that some woman is texting you, saying she misses you?”
His expression remained blank. “This isn’t any of your business.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Not my business?” I repeated. “I’m your wife.”
Raphael exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “You know what this marriage is, Henrietta. Don’t start acting like this is something it’s not.”
Something inside me cracked.
I had known. I had known this was a contract. A deal. A necessity for him, not a choice.
But hearing him say it like that…
Like I was nothing.
Like I meant nothing.
It hurt more than I cared to admit.
I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. “You don’t even care, do you?” My voice shook. “You don’t care how I feel. You don’t care what I’ve done for you. You don’t—”
"Enough," he cut me off, his tone sharp. "Don't turn this into a fight."
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "You don’t want a fight? Fine. Then answer me honestly—who is she?"
Silence.
His lack of response told me everything I needed to know.
I sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to stop the sting in my eyes.
Raphael didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching me like I was some fragile thing about to break.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I already had.
I turned away before he could see the tears threatening to spill.
"I was stupid to think this could ever be real," I whispered.
Then, without waiting for a response, I grabbed my purse and walked out of the room.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I just knew I needed to get away.
From him.
From this house.
From the foolish hope that had led me here in the first place.
- Writer
