Chapter 10%
Troy got into the car that came to pick him up. His phone screen lit up and dimmed several times, but not a single reply came from me.
The last message he sent was still stuck on the screen: “I’ve landed. I got you something.”)
But I didn’t answer. Not this time. It was strange, probably even jarring for him. In the past, even if he just texted a simple “hmm,” I’d reply with a full paragraph and probably toss in a heart emoji or two at the end.
But now I couldn’t even bring myself to type back a word
From the driver’s seat, the assistant gave a furtive glance through the rearview mirror, clearly debating something
“Mr. Green should we head to the Green estate first, or “he hesitated, then went for it, “do you want to go see Miss Thalia first?“)
Troy’s eyebrows twitched faintly, his mouth opening to say something. But the assistant cut in quickly, almost desperately
“Maybe we should go to your shared apartment first. Miss Thalia, she’s probably been waiting for you. I mean, you’ve been gone a while. she might’ve missed you”
Troy’s jaww clenched. “Since when do you take it upon yourself to tell me what to do?” he asked coldly.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the assistant said quickly, then swallowed, but forged on. “It’s just… I know you care for Miss Bianca. Everyone does. But Miss Thalia she’s your wife. And I’ve watched her change so much just for you.”
Troy’s fingers stilled.
“Do you know,” the assistant went on quietly, “before you married her, she was the life of every party. She danced like no one was watching, dressed to turn heads, laughed loud and proud. She’d win a bet and toss her hair like she owned the whole damn room. But ever since she married you, she’s faded herself down to a whisper just to fit beside you.”
“She stopped going out with friends. Started dressing in toned down colors because she heard you don’t like flashy things. Even started volunteering at the orphanage you fund just to feel closer to you.”
“There was a time she waited outside your study for six hours straight because she know you were upset after seeing Bianca. She didn’t even knock, just sat there quietly, hoping you’d notice. When she fainted, the maid found her and rushed her to the ER. And when sho woke up, the first thing she asked was if you were okay.”
“She folded your clothes the way your mother tough! her to. She threw out her entire perfume collection after you casually said you preferred natural scents. And that night you came back sick from the retreat, she drove two hours through the storm to get that herbal medicine you like–and nearly slid off a cliff doing (L”
“She gave up pieces of herself, Mr. Green, the assistant said finally, his voice cracking a little. “Just to be your wife.
Troy didn’t say a word.)
But I knew. I knew what was flooding his mind then–he was remembering the first time he saw me, too. The girl in the crimson slit dress, the wild laugh on her lips, the champagne glass tipped high in one hand while she danced on the rooftop of someone’s too expensive party.
I had looked at him, eyes full of fire and mischief, and said, “Troy Green? The man who everyone says doesn’t feel a damn thing?”
That was me once. And what did I become? I dulled myself to gray for a man who never noticed the rainbow I used to bell
I gave and gave and gave, while he used our marriage as a bandage for his twisted obsession with Bianca. Pretending to be normal, suppress his shameful feelings, while 1–his wile–was just, convenienti
But now? Now I was gone.
to
And Troy was left with silence.
Back in the car, he finally said, his voice low, “She’s out of the hospital?“)
“Yes,” the assistant said quickly, seizing the opportunity “She’s doing better now, thank God.”
Troy gave a clipped nod. “Take me home.”
The assistant breathed a silent sigh of relief and tumed the wheel
As they drove, Troy leaned back, and for the first time, those memories didn’t feel like burdens–they felt like something slipping away too
It was me teasing him in lace lingerie, trying to get his attention–only to be dismissed without a glance. Then I curled up beside him, pretending to read while stealing glances at him, hoping he’d ask me something, anything
He used to find me irritating, excessive, desperate.X
But now? Now he was afraid he’d never see that version of me again.)
The car pulled into the driveway, the gates opening slowly as if giving him a chance to turn back.
on the couch
He didn’t. He walked up to the house with long, hurried steps. There was something urgent in the way he moved, a panic in the way his keys fumbled at the door.
But inside, it was empty. No clattening in the kitchen, no soft humming from the living room, no smell of my favorite vanilla candles. Just silence. He stepped in, closed the door, and for the first time, felt what I had felt all along-
Alone 1
