Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Landon and I met during our sophomore year of college.

Back then, I was desperately preparing for a crucial internship interview.

I would sneak out to the football field at dawn every morning to practice my pitch aloud to the empty bleachers.

One morning, a warm chuckle broke the silence.

Landon stepped out from under the stadium stairs, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I've listened to your pitch for a week straight," he said softly. "Why not treat me as the interviewer? It'll feel much more real."

His gaze was completely sincere, without a trace of mockery.

Blushing fiercely, I agreed.

From that morning on, the sunrise over the track became our unspoken secret.

We grew inseparable, and by graduation, moving in together felt entirely natural.

On our second anniversary, he got down on one knee in our tiny living room and proposed with a silver ring.

I said yes through happy tears, throwing my arms around his neck and promising myself that he was the only man for me.

We scheduled our first wedding appointment for that summer.

I waited outside City Hall until the doors locked, but he never arrived.

That night, he held me tightly against his chest, his voice full of remorse.

"Babe, I am so sorry. A server crashed at work and I couldn't leave. Let's reschedule, okay?"

I believed every word.

After that, every appointment was derailed by some sudden crisis, dragging the promise out for three painful years.

I never complained, loving him with every ounce of my being.

I thought I was his future bride, only to find out I had been cast as the unwitting mistress.

Staring at the screen on my subway ride home, the wound in my heart bled profusely.

Five years of devotion demanded an answer to my face.

When I unlocked the front door of our apartment, Landon wasn't home yet.

I dialed his number. It rang once before clicking straight to voicemail.

A text popped up a second later: "In a board meeting, babe. Talk soon."

Staring at the screen, a chilling silence settled over me.

If I hadn't seen the video, I would have fallen for his excuse again.

I had doubted his excuses once or twice in the past, but his daily affection had always smothered my suspicions.

Once trust shatters, every memory becomes contaminated.

Now I couldn't stop wondering: had every act of kindness over the past three years been an orchestrated lie?

When he whispered "I love you," was he picturing my face or Maisie's?

A violent shiver ran down my spine, and my throat tightened until I could barely draw breath.

I typed out a single sentence: "Come home right now."

He replied within seconds: "On my way back, sweetheart."

The wall clock ticked loudly in the quiet living room.

Two agonizing hours passed before the doorknob finally rattled and Landon stepped inside.

"Work dragged on, I couldn't slip away earlier," he said, kicking off his shoes.

"What's wrong, babe? Did something happen?"

He walked toward me with open arms, leaning in for his usual kiss.

He had maintained this gentle, attentive persona every single day for five years.

I didn't bother asking why a quick drive took two hours.

I had already seen the latest comments under Maisie's video: they had just released floating lanterns by the riverbank.

I stepped back, avoiding his touch, and looked into his eyes.

"Landon, today was our seventh appointment at City Hall."

His posture stiffened for a fraction of a second before he flashed an apologetic grin.

"Every time we book a date, my boss dumps a crisis on me. Next time it happens, I'll just resign. Marrying you is way more important."

I stared directly into his eyes, searching for any flicker of guilt.

There was none.

His eyes looked just as warm and innocent as they had five years ago on the bleachers.

Only now did I realize that the boy from the football field was long gone.

Seeing my blank expression, Landon reached out to squeeze my shoulders.

"Babe, we've been together for five years. We're basically married anyway. That piece of paper can wait."

"I promise you, you are the only woman I will ever call my wife."

He used that exact script after every missed appointment.

In the past, I comforted myself with those words, believing our commitment mattered more than a legal document.

Today, I finally understood the truth.

The only reason he didn't give me that paper was because he had already given it to someone else.

In the eyes of the law, I was merely the side piece he kept in a comfortable cage.

"When you say the word 'wife,'" I said calmly, "are you talking to me, or to Maisie, whose name is printed right next to yours on your marriage certificate?"