The warmth startled me.
When I opened my eyes, strong arms were wrapped around me from behind. Jackson’s breath brushed against my ear, and his familiar voice whispered, “I’m sorry about last night. I was just… busy. Let me make it up to you this time. Dinner?”
His lips brushed my cheek before I could even process the words. He kissed me softly, almost tenderly, like the man I once knew. Then he slipped something cool into my hand.
I looked down. An emerald necklace sparkled against my palm, deep green fire dancing in the light.
“I’m also sorry for missing our anniversary,” he murmured, fastening it gently around my neck. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. After our wedding, we’ll go on a trip to the Maldives—just like you’ve always wanted.”
I forced a smile, my throat tight.
He pulled back, revealing a tray of breakfast he had prepared himself—eggs, toast, fresh juice. “Here,” he said proudly, setting it on my lap.
If this had been another day—if it had been years ago when we still lived in that small apartment and he scraped together coins to buy me a five-dollar ring—my heart would have burst with joy. Back then, I would have kissed him endlessly, thanking him as though he had handed me the world.
But today?
I just stared. Pretended to eat. Pretended to smile. Pretended to be happy.
Because deep down, I knew. The cracks had already swallowed us whole.
And then his phone rang.
The screen lit up with a name I didn’t need to see twice. Ivy.
Jackson glanced at me once, then answered smoothly. “Business. I’ll see you at dinner. Wear what I sent you.”
He hung up without another word and left, grabbing his coat, his cologne trailing behind him like a ghost of the man who used to love me.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I pushed the tray aside and stood. I opened the wardrobe and pulled out every box, every drawer, every hidden memory. The love letters from years ago, the cheap trinkets, the first ring he bought me when he worked five jobs to keep me fed, the pressed flowers he once gave me when we couldn’t afford real bouquets. Every gift, every note, every token of our history.
I placed them all in a box. Once, these things had been treasures. Now, they were weights.
I slid the box to the corner of the room. I would erase every piece of our past once I left.
By evening, I dressed in the gown Jackson had sent, the emerald necklace heavy against my skin. I painted my lips with the shade he liked, pinned my hair the way he preferred, and told myself it would only be him and me tonight. That maybe this was his attempt to remember.
But when I stepped into the restaurant, my heart froze.
Because she was there. Ivy.
“Oh, look,” she said sweetly. “We have the same dress. And the same necklace. Seems like we share the same taste, huh?”
I stared at her, my voice small. “What are you doing here?”
Before I could say more, Jackson’s voice cut in. “We had a meeting with a client here. Ivy was already nearby, so she joined us. She’s hungry, so she’s eating with us right now.”
My chest tightened. “I thought this was a date.”
He sighed, already irritated. “Don’t be dramatic, Cassandra. I’m stressed with work. Just sit down, eat, and stop making a scene.”
I obeyed, lowering myself into the seat quietly. My fingers clenched against the tablecloth, holding myself together with what little pride I had left.
The food arrived. I expected that he would serve me first, like he always used to. Instead, the dish was placed in front of Ivy, and Jackson slid her plate closer with a smile.
Then came the seafood platter. The smell hit me instantly. My stomach churned. Memories slammed into me: the night I had mistakenly eaten seafood years ago, the allergic reaction that left me gasping in the hospital, Jackson working tirelessly to pay for the bills.
How could he forget?
He turned to me, brows lifting. “Why aren’t you eating? Isn’t this your favorite?”
Ivy leaned forward with a knowing smirk. “Oh, really? We’re the same then—it’s my favorite too.”
My lips trembled. I whispered, “I’m allergic…”
But he didn’t hear. His phone rang again, and he excused himself, stepping away.
And then it was just me and Ivy.
She leaned closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re really a copycat, huh? Can’t you see he’s dressing you like me? The same gown, the same necklace—so he won’t feel bad for settling. Do you even realize what you are, Cassandra? Nothing. A stand-in. A shadow.”
I stayed silent, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.
She chuckled darkly. “That necklace? Yours is a cheap imitation. Mine is real. He buys me the originals—you get the duplicates. Do you really think you’ll ever fit in our world? You better leave before you embarrass yourself further. Before you get hurt.”
I met her gaze, finally speaking in a low, firm voice. “Good. Then I will.”
I pushed back from the table, ready to walk away—but Ivy wasn’t finished.
As I rose, she suddenly yelped, clutching her leg. She knocked her soul bowl over dramatically.
“Ahhh! My leg—Cassandra burned me!” she cried, her voice loud enough to draw attention.
Heads turned. Jackson rushed back instantly, his face contorted with panic.
“What happened?!” he demanded, crouching beside her.
Tears streaked Ivy’s flawless cheeks as she sobbed, “She—she got mad about the dress, the necklace—she burned me! On purpose!”
I shook my head furiously. “No! I didn’t! I didn’t even touch her!”
But Jackson’s eyes snapped to me, furious. “Are you insane?! She’s a model, Cassandra! She depends on her legs! And you—what are you?! Nothing!”
The words pierced deeper than any blade.
And then he did the unthinkable.
He grabbed the edge of the hot plate and pressed it against my thigh. The searing pain tore a scream from my throat, the burn spreading like fire under my skin.
“Now feel it,” he hissed. “Feel the burn you gave her.”
I collapsed against the chair, clutching my leg, my vision swimming with tears.
Ivy sobbed into his chest as he carried her out of the restaurant, her arms looped around his neck, her smile hidden from his view but visible to mine.
And me?
I was left there. Alone.
