Talia's POV
My name is Talia Scott.
I am twenty-one years old, and I have been married to Ethan Miller for the past two years.
Was it a love marriage?
No. It never was.
Our union was arranged—decided by families, sealed by vows, and empty of affection. From Ethan's side, there was never love.
From mine…
I had belonged to him long before he ever knew my name.
I first saw him ten years ago at a gathering I barely remember now, except for the way his dark, hunter-like eyes held no warmth. I was too young to understand what love was, yet something about him stayed with me. I admired him silently, from afar, carrying a dream of a quiet life—small joys, gentle moments, a place where I wouldn't feel afraid just to exist.
It was ten at night.
I sat alone at the dining table, waiting for my husband so we could eat together. He didn't like seeing me, didn't like my presence—but I was still his wife. I told myself that one day, he would accept me.
The house felt enormous.
And unbearably silent.
When the door finally opened, the cold rushed in before he did.
"Haven't I told you not to wait?" Ethan said flatly, his eyes never lifting to meet mine.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he interrupted me.
"Come inside. Natasha, wait downstairs."
Hearing her name tightened something painfully in my chest.
⸻
Inside the room, he settled into the large chair, calm and distant, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.
"Don't you think you're crossing a line?" he asked quietly.
I swallowed the insult. "What's going on between you and Natasha?"
A slow, mocking smirk curved his lips.
"Why does it matter to you?"
"Why does it matter?" My voice trembled. "She's coming between us. You don't even try to—"
"You're the other woman, Talia."
The words struck harder than any slap.
"What…?" I whispered.
"Two years ago, you walked into my room, slept with me, pretended to be innocent, and trapped me into marriage," he said coldly.
My hands shook. "That isn't true. Ethan… you still don't believe me?"
He rose abruptly. "Don't push me. Leave. I don't want to see your face. I'll come to you when I choose. Stop pretending to be my wife—it disgusts me."
"Ethan—"
He slammed his fist onto the table.
"GET OUT!"
"I hate you," I whispered as a tear slid down my cheek.
⸻
I stumbled out, my body trembling. My fingers slipped as I pressed the elevator button again and again. When I realized no one was there, I turned and ran for the stairs.
Halfway up, my legs gave out.
I slid down against the wall, one hand clamped over my mouth to silence my sobs, the other clutching my chest.
"It hurts… it hurts so much," I whispered, my voice breaking.
⸻
I went back to our room.
No—my room.
He rarely came here. Once a month, if that. It had already been three weeks.
A hollow laugh escaped me.
I pulled a suitcase from the closet and began packing slowly, mechanically. Each folded dress felt like I was erasing pieces of myself. Each empty hanger reminded me how little space I had ever occupied in his life.
I unplugged my phone, intending to call my father—then froze.
Father? Mother?
They had never given me warmth. When someone set me up years ago, my own parents called me shameless and threw me away like something broken. Instead, I dialed the Scott family's butler.
Still… a small part of me hoped things might be different this time.
Before leaving, I paused.
I needed to say goodbye.
⸻
I walked toward Ethan's study.
The door was slightly open.
I stepped inside.
And everything shattered.
Natasha sat on his lap, her arms looped around his neck, laughter soft and familiar—as if she belonged there. As if she always had.
His high school love.
The woman he truly wanted.
My breath caught painfully. My heart raced so fast it felt like it would tear itself apart.
I stepped back.
Then another step.
Tears blurred my vision as my hands trembled violently.
They noticed me.
Ethan's expression didn't change.
Natasha smiled.
Something inside me broke beyond repair.
I turned and ran.
I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I couldn't stay. My feet felt numb as I rushed down the corridor, breath uneven, heart screaming inside my chest.
I pushed open the balcony door. The cold wind struck me hard, stealing the air from my lungs. My hair whipped across my face as tears streamed freely.
I bent over the railing, gasping.
This is it, I thought.
This is where I lose everything.
⸻
I washed my face, the icy water burning my skin, then dragged my suitcase downstairs.
Outside, the night air felt sharp and unforgiving.
"Good evening, Miss Talia," Petro said softly, concern clear in his eyes.
"Hello, Petro," I whispered. "Please… take me to my parents' house."
He hesitated. "Are you certain, miss?"
"I have nowhere else to go."
⸻
City lights blurred past like strangers.
Natasha's laughter echoed in my mind again and again.
How could i stay with a man who never loved me?
When we arrived, I stepped out, my heart aching with a hope I should have known better than to carry.
My mother's slap came without warning.
"How dare you abandon your husband and come here?"
"Mom—"
"SHUT UP!" my father yelled. "If not for Ethan, who would ever want you?"
My hands shook violently as darkness crept into my vision.
Idiot, I told myself.
Why did you expect anything from them?