Chapter 2 False Hope

I woke up to blinding sunlight and a pounding headache. For a moment, I didn't remember anything that happened the night before.

All I knew was that I was tangled in expensive sheets that smelled like sandalwood and something masculine and the pillow beneath my head was softer than anything I'd ever felt.

I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Then the memories came flooding back.

There was a gala… a glass of champagne… Lisa.

Yes. Lisa took Lucas's away and—

My eyes flew open.

The space beside me was empty. But last night, there was a stranger with dark eyes. My cheeks flushed as I remembered the way he touched me. His lips on mine, and how he made me feel alive for the first time in years.

“Oh my God.” I panicked, jumping up from the bed and immediately regretting it as nausea rolled to my throat.

The room spun for a moment before settling into focus.

My hands shook as I pushed the sheets aside and got down from the bed. My dress was still on the floor how I left it. My heels, my underwears—everything scattered all over the room like an evidence of my betrayal.

I gathered my clothes with trembling fingers as I put them on.

I thought about Lucas. My husband who had spent the entire evening fawning over another woman. My husband who abandoned me at a charity event I was forced to attend. The same husband who looked at Lisa like she was more beautiful than the moon and stars.

But that didn't make what I had done right. Nothing made this right.

My hair was a disaster—wild and tangled in a way that told the whole world that i spent the night in someone else's bed. My makeup was smeared and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

I slipped out of the hotel room without looking back, keeping my head down in shame as I crept out.

To say I felt guilty was an understatement. I was embarrassed even.

“Please don't let anyone recognize me. Please, please, please.” I prayed silently as I made my way down to the lobby.

Halfway across the lobby, I heard it. The familiar laugh that had haunted me all night.

I looked up immediately, and my heart stopped.

There was Lucas and Lisa, strolling out of a hotel room like they belonged together. His arms wrapped around her waist.

They were both disheveled in a way that mirrored mine. Lucas's tie was loose, hanging askew around his neck. His shirt was half-untucked and there were lipstick stains all over his face. Lisa's hair fell in messy waves down her back, and her lipstick was smudged across her mouth.

Even if I had no right, the sight broke my heart. Here I was, drugged and ended up betraying my marriage vows because of it. Here I was, killing myself for what I did. While Lucas had been doing the exact same thing in a room close by.

He didn't even notice I was missing, he didn't even bother to search for me. Instead, he chose to spend the night with the woman he really wanted while his wife suffered.

Our eyes met across the lobby and I expected him to regret.

For one second he did. There was pure guilt written all over his face, but it was gone as soon as it came.

His face hardened into cold indifference, and he looked away like I was just a stranger he knew. Like I wasn't the wife he just cheated on consciously.

He guided Lisa past me without a word. Not even pretending to care that his wife just caught him leaving another woman's hotel room at seven in the morning.

The doors closed on his face, while I stood there in the empty lobby, reality dawning on me.

My husband was cheating on me openly. And he didn't even care that I knew.

I made it to my uber before the tears came. I cried for my marriage. For my father, who believed that Lucas was a good man. And for the girl I used to be. The one thought she could make a man love her.

---

Over the next few days, Lucas completely changed. He became worse. Unbearable.

Lucas started coming home later and later each night, sometimes not even bothering to return at all.

He didn't touch my food, he didn't even bother to touch me. And when I did the laundry, he always reeked of Lisa's expensive perfume.

"Sign here," he said one morning, flinging a folder across the table while I had breakfast. He didn't touch his, he just sat there, tapping on his phone. Probably texting Lisa.

"What is this?" I asked, staring at the papers.

"Paperwork for your father's company. It's routine stuff. Just sign it."

"But shouldn't I read—"

"It's boring legal jargon, Lara. Do you really want to spend your morning reading about tax documents and shareholder agreements?" He finally looked at me, his expression impatient. "I'm trying to help you manage your father's legacy. Unless you want me to stop?"

The subtle threat in his voice made me flinch.

“Where do I sign?”

“Sign here, here and initials here.” He replied, pointing at several places on the document.

I signed without reading. What choice did I have? Lucas was the one who understood business. And I was just the daughter who inherited something too complicated for her to handle alone.

Or so he always told me.

This pattern continued for days. Papers at breakfast. Lucas disappearing for hours, sometimes days and that perfume following him like a ghost.

Then one evening, everything changed.

I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard his car pull into the driveway. I glanced at the clock and it was six-thirty. He had never been home that early in weeks.

When Lucas walked in, he was smiling.

SMILING!

"Lara," he said warmly. "You look beautiful."

I blinked, stunned. I was wearing an old jeans with a t-shirt, my hair was up in a messy bun so I knew that was a lie.

I forced a smile. "Lucas... welcome—"

"Let's go out," Lucas continued, cutting me short. He loosened his tie as he walked toward me. "Just the two of us. Dinner at that Italian place you used to love. Remember? The place we went to on our first anniversary."

My heart stuttered. "You want to take me out to dinner?"

"Yes. I’ve been terrible to you lately, and I'm sorry." he said, looking apologetic. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

My chest ached, missing his touch.

"I want to make it up to you. Lara. Please let me."

I felt hopeful once more. Grateful that he acknowledged how awful he's been treating and terrible for that stupid mistake I made that night.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he still cared. Maybe our marriage could still be saved. I finally allowed myself to smile, grateful that I didn't give up.

"Okay," I beamed, “Let's go.”

I rushed upstairs and changed into my favorite blue dress—one of the dresses Lucas absolutely loved on me. I did my hair and makeup carefully, trying to ignore the voice in my head saying this was too good to be true.

Lucas drove us to Giovanni's, the Italian restaurant where we celebrated our first anniversary. He pulled out my chair. Ordered my favorite wine. And for the first time I years, we talked.

He told me about a new contract at work. I told him about the scholarship applications coming in for my father's foundation. He reached across the table and took my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For being so distant. For making you feel like you don't matter. You do matter, Lara. You're my wife. The perfect words for me."

That night, when we got home, Lucas led me upstairs to our bedroom. And kissed me slowly. The kiss was tender, like he had all the time in the world.

He held my gaze lovingly as undressed me gently.

That night he made love to me with a passion I almost couldn't believe it was coming from him.

He whispered sweet words against my neck, told me he was a fool and held me closer to his chest like I was something precious.

I smiled, listening to his heartbeat slow as he drifted toward sleep. This was what marriage was supposed to feel like. Connection. Intimacy. Love.

I was just about to sleep when I saw it.

A red stain.

I slowly escaped from his arms and picked up Lucas's shirt that was on the floor.

There was a dark red stain on the white collar. My eyes was not decieving me.

And I knew that shade. It was Lisa's.

The same one she wore to the gala.

My stomach dropped. I brought it up to my nose and it was her perfume.

Still strong. Still fresh. Very recent.

Tears flowed down my eyes. Everything that has just happened was a lie. The dinner, the smiles, his sweet words, even the passionate sex we just had.

My husband didn't love me. And he probably never will.