It felt like a slap in the face—harsh, undeniable, and cruel.
The words Lucas had uttered echoed relentlessly in Lara's mind, piercing through her already wounded heart like shards of glass.
She stood frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. He was barely conscious, his drunken state rendering him oblivious to the weight of what he had just said. Yet, his voice had been clear—clear enough to crush every last bit of hope she had been holding onto.
Tears blurred her vision as she turned away, unable to bear it any longer. Without another word, she rushed to her room, slamming the door behind her. As soon as the lock clicked, her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as if that could keep her from falling apart completely.
A strangled sob escaped her lips. Then another. And another. Until the quiet of the room was filled with the sound of her broken cries.
Her fingers curled into fists as she pressed them against her heart, as if she could physically hold the pieces together.
She had been so blind. So foolish.
All this time, she had fought for a marriage that was never truly hers. She had held on, believing—hoping—that if she just loved Lucas enough, someday he might return even a fraction of that love.
But the truth had been staring her in the face all along.
From the very beginning, Lucas had loved someone else.
Not her. Never her.
And she had been too much of a fool to see it.
Was that why he resented her? Why he never forgave her for agreeing to this marriage? Why he couldn't even look at her without disdain?
Riah.
The name played over and over in Lara's mind like a cruel taunt.
That must be her. The woman he truly loved.
A fresh wave of guilt crashed over Lara, making her tremble.
She had never even met her, but the guilt was suffocating. She could only imagine the pain that woman must have felt when she lost Lucas to an arranged marriage. How devastated she must have been, knowing that the man she loved was forced to marry someone else.
"Oh, God... What have I done?" she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
She felt vile. Despicable.
She was the villain in someone else's love story.
She had stolen another woman's happiness. She had taken away the future Riah and Lucas were meant to have. She had wrecked a love story that was never meant to be hers.
Was this her punishment? Was this why Lucas couldn't love her—because in his eyes, she had ruined his life?
A gut-wrenching sob escaped her lips.
Lucas was right. She had ruined everything.
She had ruined his life, his future, his happiness.
And now, she was the only one left in this mess, desperately clutching onto something that was never hers to begin with.
That night, she cried herself to sleep. She didn't even remember when exhaustion finally took over. All she knew was that she had curled into herself, drowning in her heartbreak, desperately wishing that when she woke up, this would all turn out to be a terrible dream.
But deep down, she knew.
It wasn't.
...
The Next Morning.
The shrill ringing of her alarm clock pulled Lara from unconsciousness.
She blinked groggily, her body stiff from sleeping on the floor. Her head throbbed, her eyes burned, and her heart—her heart felt like an empty shell.
For a long moment, she just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.
She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to face another day of pretending everything was fine.
Then, like a dam breaking, last night's events came flooding back.
Lucas. His voice. That name.
Pain tightened around her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Her lips trembled as she curled into herself, squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out the memories. But it was useless. The words replayed in her mind like a cruel melody, each syllable another dagger to her already shattered heart.
She didn't know what to do anymore.
She had fought for this marriage for three long years, believing she had the right to do so. But now…
Who was she even fighting for?
For a husband who loved another woman?
For a marriage that was never hers to begin with?
For a love that was never meant for her?
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her lips.
What was the point of all her struggles, all her sacrifices, if in the end, she was the only one holding on?
She had spent years trying to fix something that was doomed from the start.
Why had she been so foolish?
Why had she agreed to this marriage, knowing Lucas didn't love her?
Not only had she destroyed Lucas' happiness, but she had also ruined her own.
Her hands curled into the sheets, gripping them tightly.
Should she just give up? Should she finally end this marriage and give Lucas the freedom he had always wanted?
Maybe then, he would finally forgive her.
Maybe then, she wouldn't have to keep living like this—chasing after someone who would never look back at her.
Wouldn't that be the right thing to do? If she truly loved Lucas, shouldn't she set him free?
The thought sent a sharp pang through her chest.
She imagined herself walking away. Letting him go. Watching him be with the woman he truly loved.
And it hurt.
It hurt so much she could barely breathe.
She squeezed her eyes shut as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
No.
No matter how much she tried to convince herself that letting go was the right thing to do, her heart refused to listen.
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't let him go.
A hollow laugh escaped her lips as she wiped her tears, even though they wouldn't stop falling.
She must be insane.
What kind of woman holds onto a man who will never love her back?
Why couldn't she bring herself to let him go?
She knew it was wrong.
She knew she was being selfish.
But she couldn't help it.
She couldn't imagine a life without Lucas. She loved him too much.
"Dear God…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please… even just this once… let me have him."
The guilt gnawed at her, but she couldn't change how she felt.
She pitied Riah. She truly did.
But she couldn't give Lucas back.
She wouldn't.
Even if it made her the villain in this story.
Even if it made her a selfish, desperate woman.
She was still his wife.
They were still legally married.
And as long as she held that title, she still had a chance.
She had to believe that.
She had to try.
A shaky breath left her lips as she wiped away her tears, her resolve hardening.
She would fix this marriage.
She had to.
She knew this wasn't healthy.
She knew she was only setting herself up for more pain.
But it didn't matter.
Because she loved him.
She loved him more than she loved herself.
And no matter how much it hurt… she wasn't ready to let go.
Not yet.
Not now.
Lara took a deep breath, wiping away the last traces of her tears. She forced herself to get up and went straight to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away her exhaustion. She didn't bother putting on full makeup, only dabbing on extra concealer under her eyes to hide the puffiness from crying. The last thing she wanted was for Lucas to see her looking so weak, so broken.
Once she was satisfied with how she looked—presentable but not overly done—she stepped out of her room and headed straight to the kitchen. Cooking had always been a small way for her to show her love for Lucas, even if he rarely appreciated it. Today was no different.
She prepared a simple breakfast—black coffee and hangover soup. She doubted he would refuse, knowing he had gotten himself drunk last night. Whether he liked it or not, he needed something in his system before heading to work. He didn't have time to be picky.
Just as she finished setting the table, she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw Lucas enter the kitchen, looking as composed as ever.
If she hadn't seen him drunk out of his mind just a few hours ago, she never would've guessed he had been drinking all night. He had already taken a shower, his hair neatly styled, his suit impeccable. The only sign of his hangover was the faint crease between his brows, a sign of the headache he was surely battling.
Seeing him, Lara hesitated.
She didn't know how to act around him after what had happened. Just looking at him brought back the unbearable pain from last night.
She wanted to confront him.
Who is Riah?
Do you truly love her?
Do you still meet her?
Her heart screamed for answers, but her mind held her back. She knew better than to ask. Confronting him wouldn't change anything—it would only push him further away, maybe even give him another reason to hurt her.
So she did what she always did. She forced a smile.
"G-Good morning, honey," she greeted, her voice soft yet uncertain.
Lucas barely spared her a glance. His gaze remained indifferent as he walked past her, heading for the coffee machine.
Lara's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. "I already made you coffee," she said quickly, turning to face him. "And I made some hangover soup."
Lucas paused, his eyes flickering toward the dining table.
"I know you have a hangover. Just eat what I made. I didn't put poison in it, if that's what you're worried about," she added, attempting to lighten the mood, though the bitterness in her voice was hard to hide.
For a moment, he looked like he was debating whether to listen to her or not. But after a few seconds, without a word, he walked toward the table and sat down.
Lara's lips curled into a small, relieved smile. She immediately moved to serve him, scooping a portion of soup into a bowl and placing it in front of him. She then poured his coffee, watching as he silently started eating.
It was rare to see him eat the food she made, even rarer to share a meal together like this. Lara sat across from him, her own breakfast untouched as she stole glances at him.
Her mother's call from yesterday lingered in her mind. She debated how to bring up the matter. She knew Lucas wouldn't like the idea. But she had to convince him.
After a moment, she gathered the courage to speak.
Lara cleared her throat. "Are you free this weekend?" she asked carefully.
Lucas didn't even look up. "No."
She bit her lip. She had expected that response, but she had no choice but to push further.
"Could you possibly make some time?" she pressed. "My mom called yesterday… she wants us to visit this weekend."
"Tell her I'm busy," he said flatly.
"I did," she admitted. "But she insisted. She says it's been a while, and she really wants to see you."
Lucas' hand tightened around his spoon. He clearly wasn't fond of the idea.
Lara understood why.
Lucas and her father had never gotten along. Initially, her father had admired Lucas—his intelligence, his success, his ability to handle business with such sharp precision. When the arranged marriage was first proposed, her father thought it was a good idea. He had believed that Lucas would be the perfect husband for his daughter.
But after the wedding, it didn't take long for him to see the truth.
Lucas was cold, distant, and completely indifferent toward her.
Seeing his daughter suffer in a loveless marriage, her father's admiration for Lucas turned into resentment. Two years ago, he had even asked Lara if she wanted to annul the marriage. He told her that their companies had already benefited enough from the deal, that she could leave if she wanted to.
But she refused.
Because despite everything, she still loved Lucas.
And because of that, her father had no choice but to let her stay in this one-sided marriage.
Lara lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry you have to do this," she said softly. "Mom's just really stubborn. I can't say no to her."
Lucas exhaled, rubbing his temple as if debating whether it was worth the trouble. Then, finally, he spoke.
"One hour."
Lara's head snapped up. "What?"
"I'll go with you this Saturday," he repeated, his tone bored. "But I'll only stay for one hour. That should be enough."
Her lips parted in surprise.
She hadn't expected him to agree. Even if it was only for an hour, it was more than she had hoped for.
A genuine smile broke across her face. "Yes, that's fine. Thank you, hon."
Lucas didn't respond. He simply finished his soup and coffee, stood up, and walked away without so much as a goodbye.
Lara stared after him, feeling the familiar ache in her chest.
But she didn't let it bother her.
She was already happy enough that he had agreed to go with her.
Even if it was just an hour, even if it was only for appearances, he was willing to go with her. That small, fleeting act of compromise was enough to momentarily fill the cracks in her already broken heart.
She finished her breakfast in silence before cleaning up the dishes. Afterward, she returned to her room to get ready for work.
She curled her hair, applied light makeup, and put on her uniform.
And when she walked out the door, she did so with a smile—like she hadn't spent the early hours of the morning crying over a husband who would never love her back.