She wasn’t just his secretary then. When her father died, leaving nothing but debt, Nathan’s family took her in while her brother Martin, who is Nathan’s best friend, tried to build their company again. She lived in the guest house. She was always there.
In the early years of our marriage, Nathan was aloof. He was polite, but cold. He treated me like a roommate he was forced to live with. He spent all his time with Danica and her brother. I was the outsider in my own home.
But then, Danica left. She went to Paris for fashion school. And for two glorious years, she was gone.
That was when the ice melted. Without her constant presence whispering in his ear, Nathan finally looked at me. He saw me. We started talking. We started laughing. He started coming home early.
I remembered the first time he brought me flowers—white lilies. I remembered the trip to the Maldives where we made love under the stars, and he held me afterward, whispering that he was glad he married me.
I thought I had won. I thought patience and love had conquered his heart. I thought we were finally a real marriage.
Then, six months ago, Danica came back.
She returned with a failed degree and a sob story, and Nathan immediately hired her as his executive assistant.
And just like that, the light in our marriage flickered and went out.
The betrayal didn’t happen all at once. It was a slow, agonizing erosion.
Betrayal number one: He forgot my birthday because Danica had a flat tire and needed rescuing.
Betrayal number ten: He missed our anniversary dinner because Danica was "depressed" about her ex and needed a friend.
Betrayal number fifty: I found a receipt for a diamond bracelet in his pocket. I never received it. Two days later, I saw it on Danica’s wrist. She claimed she bought it herself.
Ninety-nine times.
I had swallowed my pride. I had smiled at galas while she clung to his arm. I had cooked dinners that went cold while he was "working late" at the office with her. I had convinced myself that it was just friendship, that I was being paranoid, that he loved me.
But lying here, with the ghost of his lips on mine, the fog cleared.
He never loved me. He loved the convenience of me. He loved the inheritance I secured. He loved that I kept his grandfather happy while he played house with the woman he really wanted.