"Sorry, the number you have dialed is engaged. Please try again later—"
Elara hung up the call, her phone slamming onto the table surface with a clang. The flames of the candles wavered, and she tightly gripped the tablecloth, trying not to cry.
The table was filled with all sorts of dishes that had long gone cold, all of which were her husband's favorites. In the center of the table sat a small cake, white and simple, with the words 'Happy Anniversary, My Love' written in cursive.
The ticking of the wall clock echoed, and she looked up through unshed tears.
10:58 p.m.
She had asked him for just one thing.
To come home tonight for their third wedding anniversary.
Not as the CEO of the Lloyd Group. Not as a man buried under meetings and deadlines. Just as her husband, as the man she had married three years ago. The man she had promised to love, support, and stand beside for the rest of her life.
But of course, she had once again asked for too much. Since when has he ever returned, even for special occasions? He certainly didn't for her birthdays, and wouldn't do so for their anniversaries.
Elara reached for her phone, hesitated for a second, then dialed Andrew's number again.
The call rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She swallowed and tried again. And again.
On the fourth attempt, the line finally connected.
"What?" Andrew's voice finally came through, curt and distant. There was a faint sound of papers shuffling in the background.
"It's already 11," Elara softly said. Disturbing him felt like a sin. "How long more will you take? You said you'd be home tonight."
There was a pause on the other side before she heard him sigh.
"I lost track of time," he said at last. His tone was calm and detached. "There's still work left at the company. I don't think I'll make it."
Elara's heart dropped at the words.
"But it's our anniversary—"
Before she could continue, a sweet voice stopped Elara short.
"Who is it, Mr. Lloyd?"
Elara's stomach twisted when she recognized that voice.
Beatrice.
"Wait, Andrew—"
The line went dead before Elara could say more.
She stared at her phone, her reflection faintly visible on the dark screen. For a moment, she didn't move. Elara pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply, blinking her eyes furiously to stop herself from crying.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe that wasn't who she thought it was.
Elara had to take deep breaths to calm herself down, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. But when she opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the document lying quietly at the edge of her table, her breath turned shaky again.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for her pregnancy report.
This was supposed to be the one thing to change their relationship for the better. Elara had imagined breaking the news to her husband, watching his expression change, and finally seeing some semblance of warmth bloom in his eyes.
Three and a half years ago, she had mistaken salvation for love.
She had gone scuba diving alone, wanting to escape the reality she was living in back then. Only, she hadn't expected the trip to take a turn for the worse so quickly. Her foot had tangled in thick ropes of kelp, and she was quickly drowning. In fact, Elara would've ended her miserable life that day if she hadn't been rescued by Andrew.
Ever since Andrew Lloyd saved her, she thought she found her fated love.
She had chased him relentlessly afterward—abandoned her identity, erased her past, severed connections that didn't fit into his world. She reshaped herself into the perfect wife: calm, compliant, gentle, undemanding.
A woman who never asked for too much. His grandfather helped her achieve her dream and they married six months later.
However, even after all her love and care, she couldn't bring him back to reciprocate those feelings. She told herself he was just reserved. That his coldness was a wall time would soften. That love would come quietly, eventually.
Three years passed, but nothing changed.
Now she understood.
She had never been his partner. She had just been convenient.
A baby wasn't going to bring them any closer together than skinship did.
The legs of the chair loudly scraped against the floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet house. Elara moved to the couch, her phone tightly grasped in her hand. She needed to get her mind off her failing relationship.
However, her social media apps saw it fit to remind her that Andrew Lloyd wasn't an emotionless man, just one that didn't give a damn about her.
#CEO of Lloyd Group rushes his woman to the hospital.
#The CEO's woman revealed
#Sprained foot sparks concern.
The image on the screen was unmistakable.
A man in a tailored suit, his expression tense with worry, carrying a woman in his arms as reporters swarmed around them. He held her carefully, protectively, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Everything about the video seemed so foreign, but this man couldn't be more familiar.
Andrew Lloyd, Elara's stone-cold husband, had a woman in his arms. If it weren't for the ring on Elara's finger, she would've thought that he was carrying his wife.
She remembered months ago when she collapsed from food poisoning, curled up on the bathroom floor in pain. Elara had called Andrew for help too.
What was it that he told her?
Right.
"Don't bother me for such small matters."
Elara let out a low laugh of disbelief, her hand cupped over her eyes.
If his secretary hadn't arrived in time, she might've died then. He hadn't even visited her during the time she was hospitalized. Now, he personally carried a woman with a sprained foot on the streets, unafraid of the public eye.
Andrew Lloyd wasn't incapable of love, Elara realized. He simply wasn't capable of loving her.
A text notification drew Elara's attention back to her phone. She instinctively looked, thinking it would be Andrew. Yet, it was from an unknown number.
Elara tapped into the chat, air leaving her lungs as she properly registered what she was looking at.
Andrew. Shirtless. Lying on a bed.