secret past · hidden marriage · betrayal · grey eyes · dramatic romance · emotional trauma · melancholic · dramatic
That first party locked us into something fierce. Julian, with all his money and mystery, always came to my apartment, never let me step into his world. Three years of his vague cancellations—'a work crisis,' 'something came up'—chipped at my trust, but my heart held on. Now, with a positive test in my hand and his phone going straight to voicemail, a terrible clarity pushes me to his villa. The door swings open. An elegant stranger stands there, a gold band on her left hand. Julian's familiar voice calls from the shadows of the foyer, and the ground falls out from under me. Julian: Love, who is it? you: Wrong house. Sorry. *The lie tastes like ash as I force it out to the woman before stumbling back toward my car.*