That night, my mind carried me back to the first time I saw him.
I was eighteen, dragged to a party by my father. Across the crowded room, I noticed Sebastian standing near the piano, black suit tailored to perfection, a glass of champagne in hand. The air seemed heavier around him, like everyone else had shrunk in comparison. I couldn’t look away.
Later, I did something reckless and bold. I kissed him.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound. “That’s not quite how you do it, sweetheart,” he said, leaning closer to show me.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, consuming. In that moment, I believed no one else could ever touch me like that. I didn’t realize then that kiss would haunt me years later.
When I woke, my pillow was damp. I hadn’t noticed the tears falling.
Dawn was creeping across the sky as I sat there, staring at nothing, before finally calling my father.
“Dad,” I said, my voice raw, “I’m divorced.”
Silence. Then his tone sharpened, worry cutting through: “Did he… hurt you?”
I stared at the gray morning outside. “No… we just… stopped loving each other.”
Not true. He stopped loving me. And I’d stopped surviving it. Some truths hurt more when said aloud, so I kept the rest to myself.
After I hung up, my phone buzzed with a new friend request. Without thinking, I accepted.
A video appeared immediately. Sebastian, asleep on the couch, shirt half undone, hair tousled, face soft in the dim light. His lips moved, whispering something that made my hands shake.
“Lory…”
Then the messages came.
“Hi, I’m Valeria Moores. Sebastian’s first love. I didn’t expect that, even after all these years, even with a wife, he still hasn’t forgotten me. I saw his tattoo today—my nickname, still there. He kept our old photos, all the letters, the diaries he wrote just for me. He even calls my name in his sleep. First love never really leaves, does it?”
My chest tightened, suffocating me. My fingers hovered over the screen before I typed, slowly:
“What do you want from me?”
Minutes passed. Then her reply came.
“Nothing. I just want what’s mine. He’s about to wake up. Bet if I tell him I had a nightmare, he’ll be at my side for days. Won’t even send you a text.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.
Ten minutes later, Sebastian’s message arrived.
“Baby, something came up. I’ll be away on business for a few days. Call my secretary if you need anything. Take care of yourself—and the baby.”
I laughed, a hollow, painful sound that burned my chest. Tears streamed anyway. He was that predictable.
For five days, he vanished. No calls, no texts.
But Valeria didn’t. She sent me updates, pictures every day.
Barefoot on a beach. Sitting by a mountain campfire. Hands intertwined, driving through open fields.
“These were ours,” she wrote. “He remembers.”
I scrolled through every image. He had taken me to those same places, or so I thought. Memories I thought were ours… were just spaces I filled while she wasn’t there.
By the fifth night, I began packing. Every piece of jewelry, every dress, every bag and perfume he’d gifted me—box after box, into storage. No tears this time.
When he returned, his suitcase thudded on the floor. He looked around, puzzled.
“Baby? What are you doing? Closet’s half-empty.”
I didn’t look at him. “Just clearing out things I don’t need.”
He chuckled softly, as if I were being dramatic again, then reached into his bag. “Look, I found these for you.”
A box of limited-edition art books—the ones I’d mentioned weeks ago. He remembered, of course. The small details always mattered. The big ones? Never.
“Baby,” he murmured, arms wrapping around me, hand instinctively resting on my stomach. “How’s the baby? Tomorrow’s your checkup—I’ll come with you, alright?”
I stepped away. “No need. You don’t have to.”
He frowned. “What do you mean? Feeling unwell?”
One of the maids spoke up. “Sir, Miss Maris hasn’t been eating much these past few days.”
He loosened his tie. “I’ll cook. You’ll eat, alright? Your favorites. Just a little.”
He spoke like I was a child, like gentleness could erase the wounds his neglect had left.
Turning to the maids, he said, “Watch her. Don’t let her bump into anything.”
They giggled as he left.
“He’s so caring.”
“She’s lucky. Every woman dreams of a husband like that.”
I stood there, staring at the empty doorway. A hollow ache twisted inside me. I had believed I was lucky once… that I had found someone who would never hurt me.
But now I knew. I was only the shadow he loved when she wasn’t around.
The doorbell rang just as Sebastian’s car disappeared down the street. Wiping my eyes, forcing myself upright, I went to open it.
But it wasn’t him.
It was her.
