Never Loved You, Just A Placeholder

For five years, I paid for his art, his life, and his striking resemblance to a ghost. Karson Willis was my carefully curated substitute, a warm body to fill the space left by the man I' d lost.

Then, my world shattered. My adoptive family found their biological daughter, and my inheritance vanished overnight. I was cut off, exiled.

That' s when I overheard him laughing. "She's broke," he scoffed. "What's the point? She was useful, but that's over now."

He called our five years a "convenience" and mocked the wedding board I' d secretly made. At a company dinner, he kissed another woman in front of everyone, then left me stranded when I fell ill, accusing me of being cruel.

He even brought her into my home, letting her wear my clothes.

I endured it all, a cold clarity settling over me.

So when he finally got down on one knee, ring in hand, begging for a second chance, I didn't even hesitate.

"I never loved you," I said, pulling my hand away. "You were just a placeholder."