Part 3My Five-Year Marriage Was a Lie

Elara's POV

It was dusk when I returned home.

The sprawling villa was empty, only a solitary light illuminating the entryway. I practically dragged myself onto the sofa, my gaze sweeping over the artworks and books we had chosen together, my heart feeling like it was being repeatedly crushed by a giant stone. Each beat brought a clear, sharp pain.

I rubbed my temples, forcing myself to stand and walk toward the massive book wall.

That was the first rare art book we'd found together; he had laughed and complimented me, saying my discerning eye was unmatched.

That art history book, filled with our shared notes-he had once put his arm around my waist and said we would travel the world, visiting every museum together.

And that rare poetry collection he'd gone to such lengths to find for me, on its flyleaf, in his beautiful handwriting-

"To my dearest Elara, my only one in this life."

...

I pulled out one of the books and opened it.

Then, I tore every single one of his handwritten words, page by page, into tiny pieces.

The sound of tearing paper was eerily clear in the empty living room. For an entire night, I mechanically repeated the same action, systematically severing every shared thought, every passion, every piece of our combined souls.

By dawn, my arms were numb, my fingertips devoid of feeling.

And Julian still hadn't returned.

Today was supposed to be our wedding anniversary.

At the stroke of midnight on our anniversary, Julian's social media account updated promptly.

It was a video he'd personally edited, documenting our five years together, with deeply affectionate accompanying text. It captivated the entire internet overnight. The largest outdoor screens in the city center were also looping the video.

The lawn outside the villa had, at some point, been transformed into a rose garden. In the center of the garden, a drone hovered, dangling a giant gift box containing a set of rare art supplies I had long wished for. His deep, magnetic voice played on a loudspeaker-

"Elara, happy anniversary. I love you, just as I did from the start."

I emotionlessly pulled the curtains closed, burying myself under the duvet, shutting out the world's clamor.

Not long after, his call came through, his voice full of apology. "Sweetheart, an urgent situation came up with the merger in Europe, so I can't make it back today. When I return, I promise to make it up to you with an even grander anniversary celebration."

Listening to his flawless lie, I suddenly chuckled, my laugh slightly trembling. "It's alright, you focus on your work."

"Sweetheart, you sound upset." He keenly picked up on my mood. "Don't you like the surprise I prepared? Don't be angry; I'll make it up to you tenfold in a few days."

"No, work is important," I said, my voice calm. "I'm a little tired; I want to sleep."

I hung up, curled into a ball, and desperately tried to suppress the pain in my chest.

After what felt like an eternity, the bedroom door suddenly burst open, and a blinding beam of light flooded in.

Silhouetted against the light, I saw Julian standing in the doorway, his face frantic. His hair was disheveled, his face pale, and his deep eyes were filled with fear and dread.

Perhaps he had sensed my unusual mood and, unable to reach me, had taken his private jet straight back.

The moment he saw me, he practically rushed over, pulling me into a tight embrace, his voice hoarse and choked. "Thank goodness you're alright! Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

His eyes were red, his body trembling uncontrollably. "I'll never leave you alone again. When you didn't answer my calls, my whole world collapsed."

"Nothing is more important than you; I came back to be with you."

I remained silent.

He assumed I was still angry, so he knelt by the bed, softly coaxing me. "Elara, promise me you won't ever ignore my calls again, don't shut me out. I truly will go crazy."

His tension and fear seemed genuine.

He loved me.

But this love was tainted with too many lies and calculations.

"You came back quickly," I said, a ghost of a smile on my lips.

His expression shifted instantly, a flash of guilt before he veered away. "Darling, you haven't eaten all day. Let me take you to the gallery. I had your favorite made."

"No," I shook my head.

Panic tightened his features. "Then rest. I'll make you something downstairs."

"Mm." I gave a curt nod and turned away.

He mistook my silence for petulance, drew a steadying breath, and left.

The moment the door closed, I lay there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness, my heart a barren wasteland.