POV : Arrabella
“You know exactly what I sacrificed when I left our wedding altar three years ago, Michael.”
It was Sophia Muller’s voice, low and smooth, drifting between the clinking of crystal glasses and the lively strains of classical music in the main hall of St. Jude Orphanage, Chicago. Outside, the autumn rain washed over the large glass windows, creating blurred reflections of light.
So she had finally returned.
I stood less than two meters behind a marble pillar, gripping a silver tray holding two glasses of champagne. My breath caught in my throat.
“I never asked you to give up anything, Sophia,” replied Michael, my husband.
His deep voice still managed to make my heart flutter, just as it had more than a decade ago when we used to curl up together on the wooden floor of this orphanage, sharing a piece of bread beneath a thin blanket. After all, the three of us had grown up together in this orphanage since childhood.
“I did it for Ara!” Sophia sighed. Her slender, well-manicured fingers casually adjusted the collar of Michael’s velvet suit—a gesture so intimate, so familiar, as though the three years between them had never existed.
“I already considered her family. I knew the way she looked at you every time you rescued me from those delinquent kids in the orphanage hallways. When you were taken back by the Cooper family at sixteen and became their heir, I knew the distance between us would only grow because you were busy learning the family business. And you know what? The night before our wedding... I saw Ara crying while hugging your shirt in the storage room behind the orphanage.”
Sophia paused, staring directly into Michael’s eyes, dark as the night itself.
“I didn’t leave only because of the agency contract in Europe, Michael. I left because I knew Ara loved you. I gave my place to her when she begged me to let you go for her. I refused, but she threatened to end her own life. I was truly put in an impossible position at the time. While I was heartbroken, that opportunity suddenly came. Now I’ve returned to take back what should have been mine. I realized that I can’t forget you, Michael. And surely now, you’re going to divorce her, aren’t you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
An old wound I had tried so hard to bury suddenly split open and bled once more.
'What an impeccably crafted lie, Sophia,' I thought bitterly, forcing back the smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
Three years ago, Sophia left purely because of a golden contract from a top modeling agency. She never sacrificed anything for me. Instead, she took advantage of foolish me, kneeling and begging me to wear her wedding dress. Because if I refused, there was a possibility that the Cooper family would destroy our orphanage after their bride ran away. I accepted not because of selfish desire, but because I wanted to save the home of our younger orphan siblings while also hiding a foolish sliver of hope that the man I had loved since childhood might one day look my way.
I opened my eyes just as Michael curved his lips into a faint smile—the same ambiguous smile he usually wore while negotiating business deals worth hundreds of millions of dollars.
He neither agreed nor denied her words.
He simply allowed Sophia’s hand to remain on his chest, letting her feel victorious.
For me, Michael’s silence was more than enough.
If he truly loved me, he should have brushed Sophia’s hand away and corrected every accusation she had made. But he did not.
To Michael, I was probably nothing more than a comfortable part of his routine after reclaiming his position as the heir of Cooper Group.
For three years, I had almost forgotten that I was merely a substitute.
Michael’s attention had made me foolish enough to imagine that one day he would truly choose me.
It turned out I had only been borrowing a happiness that had never belonged to me in the first place.
Watching their closeness at the orphanage charity gala that evening, I finally understood.
Michael had never rejected Sophia.
He was simply waiting for me to realize my place and leave on my own without being asked.
I slowly turned around, set the silver tray on the nearest serving table, and walked through the crowd of elegantly dressed guests without saying goodbye to anyone.
I returned to the Cooper residence alone.
The mansion, which usually felt warm and filled with our shared laughter, suddenly felt foreign and oppressive tonight.
The large clock in the central hall chimed, announcing one o’clock in the morning.
Michael still had not returned home.
I sat on the edge of our king-sized bed, clutching my evening gown that suddenly felt too tight around me.
My heart was restless, drifting between fear and the pitiful remnants of hope.
With trembling hands, I picked up my phone from the nightstand, found my husband’s name, and pressed the call button.
One ring... two rings...
My heart pounded violently.
On the fourth ring, the call connected.
But it was not Michael’s deep voice that greeted me.
“Hello, Ara?”
The voice was soft, crisp, and laced with subtle triumph.
Sophia.
The blood in my body seemed to stop flowing.
My tongue froze against the roof of my mouth.
“Sophia? Where’s Michael?” I asked, doing everything I could to keep the tremor from my voice from sounding pathetic.
From the other end of the line came the faint sound of running water, followed by Sophia’s light laugh, as though she was perfectly familiar with the situation.
“Michael is taking a shower, Ara,” Sophia replied casually, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He’s a little tired after making up for lost time. So he decided to rest here.”
A tear I had been holding back finally escaped and slid down my cheek.
It felt as though an invisible blade had pierced straight through my chest.
“So...” My voice caught in my throat.
“Ara,” Sophia interrupted.
Her voice turned colder and sharper, though her tone remained calm.
“You know your place now, don’t you? Three years is long enough for this little act of yours. Thank you for taking good care of Michael while I was gone. But now, the rightful owner has returned.”
I immediately ended the call.
I could not bear to hear another word from the woman I had once considered a sister.
The phone slipped from my hand onto the sheets.
My body trembled violently.
I pulled my knees to my chest on the bed, buried my face against them, and finally let loose all the tears I had been holding back since the orphanage.
My sobs echoed through the vast, silent room.
I did not know what had happened over there.
But I was not a foolish woman.
It was enough for me to know that in the middle of the night, my husband was showering in the home of the woman who had once been his fiancée.
What else was there left for me to understand?
All this time, I thought...
It turned out I was wrong.
You know your place now, don’t you?
'People are right,' I thought miserably through my painful tears. 'True love will always find a way back to each other in the end. And I am nothing more than a small pebble that must be removed from their path.'
I roughly wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to gather the last fragments of dignity that had been shattered across the floor of this room.
Three years was enough.
I would not allow myself to be discarded like worthless trash.
My gaze shifted toward the drawer of the desk in the corner of the room, where our marriage documents were kept.
My tears gradually subsided, replaced by an unbearable cold emptiness in my heart.
“Tomorrow...” I whispered into the darkness.
My voice was hoarse, yet filled with absolute determination.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll handle the divorce paperwork myself at the Civil Registry. I’ll be the one to let you go, Michael.”
