I turned.
Luke Baxter. My childhood friend who'd chased me for ten years. The boy next door I'd trusted since I was small. For the entire five years of my marriage, he'd kept his distance, afraid rumors might hurt me.
Only now did he appear again.
"Did that bastard Andrew bully you again?" His jaw tightened. "Did he hit you?"
He wore a black trench coat, his frame lean but solid—the kind of presence that made you feel safe just standing near him.
"Luke."
My eyes stung harder, but I forced a smile and held up the divorce certificate. "Look. I'm free."
I exhaled slowly. "I should've listened to you years ago. Andrew James was never the right choice." My voice cracked. "If I'd listened sooner, I wouldn't have wasted five years."
Something flickered across Luke's face—pain, maybe—and he pulled me into his arms.
"Elena, do you have any idea how I survived these five years?" His voice was low, rough. "I kept hoping you'd lose. And hoping you'd win."
My gaze dropped. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into his warmth.
Five years. I'd lost. Completely.
This time, I was truly done.
Andrew had no idea that five years ago, marrying him had nearly destroyed everything between Luke and me.
Luke had tried everything to stop the wedding. He swore Andrew would never be a good match. And I'd fought him like a woman possessed—desperate to break free of his hold on me.
We'd pushed each other to the breaking point. And finally, exhausted, Luke made me a bet.
"You say he's your true love? Fine." His eyes had been hollow. "I'll give you the chance to prove it."
"Elena, how about we make a bet?"
Luke proposed that after I married Andrew, I couldn't deliberately do my makeup or dress up whenever I saw him.
He even wanted me to make myself look ugly with foundation.
If I could keep that up for five years, he would give up and let us be together.
But we didn't make it.
The first year, I darkened my skin, pretending I'd gotten a tan.
The second year, pimples broke out across my face.
The third year, little freckles appeared.
…
Along with my tiny, almost imperceptible changes, Andrew's attitude toward me deteriorated.
At first, he stopped calling me "baby" and coaxing me. Holidays came and went with no flowers, no gifts, no red envelopes. Whenever I asked, he'd shrug carelessly.
"We're already an old married couple. Isn't all that stuff exhausting?"