Elara's POV
After we got married, my husband was stationed in the northwest.
He told me the border was plagued by sandstorms year-round, the conditions were harsh, and danger was everywhere. He said he didn’t feel safe bringing me along and didn’t want me to suffer.
And I believed him. I stayed home, took care of his parents, and helped raise his younger siblings.
Later, he said he was sending all his money to the widow of a comrade who had died shielding him from a bullet, asking me to understand and endure a bit more.
In that case, I worked day and night at a steel factory to support the family, holding on to the hope that one day he’d come home.
It wasn’t until the eighth year that one of his comrades returned to our hometown to visit family.
When I asked him about my husband, the man froze. “Him? He was transferred to Washington ages ago. He’s a battalion officer now.”
I stood there, stunned.
“And he got married seven years ago. We all attended the wedding,” he added, then pulled a photo from his pocket.
The woman leaning on my husband’s arm was the same widow he’d told me he was helping.
The next day, I went straight to the town’s military office and signed my name on the list for the National Rural Service Program.
He’d trapped me in a fake marriage for seven years. From this moment on, I would never wait for him again.
——
I had just gotten home and hadn’t even started packing when the door suddenly swung open. A well-dressed woman stormed in and slapped me hard across the face.
“Looking like that and still trying to be someone’s mistress? Disgusting!”
I fell to the ground along with the table, and shards of a broken bottle cut deep into my hands. Only then did I see clearly that the woman was Briar Alden, the widow who had married Callum Vance in Washington.
She was about to kick me when I scrambled to my feet and shoved her away.
Just as the door swung open behind me, a familiar figure rushed in, quickly wrapping an arm around Briar before she could fall.
“Briar, are you okay?” he asked her worriedly.
Then he frowned at me and snapped, “Why would you hit her? Hurry and apologize to her!”
Holding my bleeding arm, I swallowed the pain and spoke flatly. “Callum, we haven’t seen each other in eight years. And the first thing you do is bring your lover into my home to hit me? She barged in and attacked me. Am I not allowed to push her away?”
Only then did Callum notice the blood on my arm and the swelling on my face. His expression shifted instantly, and he tried to step toward me. “What happened?”
The woman, just moments ago all fire and rage, suddenly clung to his arm, eyes red with fake tears. “Callum, when I walked in, I saw this woman sneaking toward your bedroom. I thought she was a thief. I was scared, so I tried to stop her. Maybe… maybe I was too anxious and accidentally hurt her.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she added, “She looked so old-fashioned, I honestly didn’t think she was your wife. Hey, if you’re angry, feel free to hit me back if you'd like. But don’t accuse me of having something with Callum. That’s an insult to both of us.”
“You didn’t—” I frowned, ready to repeat every vicious word she had said when she first hit me.
But Callum grabbed my arm before I could finish. “Enough, Elara. This is partly your fault, too. If you had just told her you were coming home, she wouldn’t have mistaken you for a thief.”
He then coughed lightly, trying to soften his tone as he explained, “By the way, this is the widow I told you about. I came back this time to bring you, Mom, and my siblings to Washington for a better life. She kindly came with me to help organize the move. How could you misunderstand her relationship with me? Go on, apologize to her.”
I stared at the man in front of me, disappointment weighing down my chest. Without a word, I turned and walked toward my room.
Behind me, Callum forced a smile and tried to smooth things over with Briar. Then he grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the kitchen. “How about let Elara cook you a nice big dinner as an apology?”
