3
SELENA
One more day before my dreaded flight back home.
I'm wrapped in the arms of the man I love, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. A thick, cream-colored blanket is draped around us, soft and worn, smelling faintly of laundry soap and him. Beneath us, the rug is plush and warm, the kind you sink into without realizing it. The fire crackles quietly, painting the room in amber light. Two mugs of hot chocolate sit nearby, steam curling lazily into the air, his with extra cocoa powder, mine untouched for too long.
Lucien sits behind me, his legs stretched out, my back pressed to his chest. His arms circle me easily, familiarly, like they were always meant to hold me this way. I can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the calm rhythm of him grounding me. His chin rests on top of my head, and every few minutes he presses a kiss to my hair without thinking, a habit he doesn't even notice anymore.
I've brought out our family album.
My heart is racing.
So far, Lucien knows very little about my past. He knows my mother and my sister. He knows my father, the man who left us for another woman. He knows there was someone before him. Someone who I loved. Someone named Kai.
That's all he knows. I've never told him more. I've never told him about the years of being second choice, about the guarded door, about the cabin, about watching Kai choose someone else over and over again. I've never told him that the someone else was my cousin. I've never told him about... Some things are too heavy to share.
But he knows Kai exists. And he knows Kai will be at this wedding. He hasn't asked for details. He's waiting for me to give them. That's who he is, patient, watchful, letting me come to him.
Lucien insisted on seeing the album. He says he wants to know who everyone is before my sister's wedding. I know my husband. He wants to memorize faces, anticipate personalities, learn who to charm and who to watch. He thrives in crowds, it's where his power lives. He reads rooms the way other people read books, picking up on dynamics, hierarchies, unspoken tensions. It's how he built an empire.
One-on-one, though? He's quieter. More guarded. It took me months to crack that shell, to find the man underneath the CEO. And now I'm the only one who gets to see him like this, soft, unguarded, holding me by the fire.
We flip through the album slowly. He sips his hot chocolate while I lean into him, his free hand tracing absent patterns on my arm.
The first page is my parents holding me the day I was born. Lucien presses a soft kiss to my cheek when he sees it, and my heart warms despite itself.
"You were perfect," he murmurs. "Still are."
Then there's a picture of me and my sister. She's the older one. We couldn't be more different. She's blonde with blue eyes; I have jet-black hair and brown eyes. But she's always been my pillar. The strong one. The kind who stands up for what's right, even if she has to stand alone.
"Sabrina," he says, testing the name. "She's the one who held you together. After."
It's not a question. He knows.
I nod, my throat tight.
He squeezes me gently. "I owe her."
There's a photo of the four of us together. A family that once looked whole.
Then, God, there's a picture of me and my sister naked in the pool, sunburned and laughing. We must have been maybe six and eight, carefree in that way children are before the world teaches them to be careful.
Lucien freezes. Then a laugh rumbles in his chest, that rare, full laugh that transforms his whole face.
"Selena."
"Don't."
"Absolutely not. We're framing this."
"Lucien Thorne, I swear—"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says between laughs, pulling me tighter against him. "I'll behave. But only because you're cute when you're mortified."
He grabs my face, kisses my cheeks, my nose, my forehead until I'm squealing and laughing too, the album forgotten for a moment.
"Fine, fine, get off," I protest, breathless.
He releases me, but his hand stays on my hip, warm and grounding.
I open the album again.
I show him my aunts and uncles.
"This one," I say, pointing to my aunt with reddish hair, "is going to call you handsome within the first five minutes."
He arches an eyebrow. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"
"Both. She'll also try to feed you. Repeatedly. Refusing is not an option."
"Noted. I'll bring a second stomach."
"And this one," I warn, pointing to another aunt, "is going to act like she's better than you. Even though you're a CEO, she'll still find a way to make everything about herself. Her son is a dentist. You'll hear about it."
His lips twitch. "A dentist. I'm intimidated."
"You should be. He has very clean teeth."
He laughs again, quiet and warm. I love this. I love him.
I show him more, cousins, family friends, the chaos of a big wedding. He listens intently, filing away every detail, already planning how he'll navigate the crowd. This is where he shines. Give him a room full of strangers and he'll own it within minutes. But here, with just me, he's content to listen, to hold, to be still.
Then I hesitate.
There's a photo coming. I know it's coming. I should skip it. I should turn the page before—
"Selena." His voice is soft, curious. "You stopped."
I force myself to turn the page.
There she is.
Her hair falls in soft brown waves, glossy and full, framing her face perfectly. Her body is curvy in all the right places, confident, effortless. She's beautiful in a way that feels unfair. Her lips are painted red, her smile wide and radiant, like she knows exactly who she is and where she belongs in the world.
She's standing between my sister and me. I'm laughing in the photo, probably at something she said. She was always funny. Always the kind of person people gravitated toward without trying.
My chest tightens.
I realize I haven't told Lucien who she is. He knows about Kai. He doesn't know about her. He doesn't know that the person who broke me wasn't just a man, it was my own blood.
My hands begin to tremble as I stare at the picture. I've gone quiet for too long. Lucien notices immediately, he notices everything when it comes to me. He points to her casually, innocently.
"She has a lovely smile."
The words echo.
She has a lovely smile.
She has a lovely smile.
Over and over again.
And suddenly, I'm not here anymore. I'm somewhere else. Somewhere broken. I'm back in that hallway, listening to sounds I shouldn't hear. I'm back in our apartment waiting for them to come back from the cabin, watching someone else receive the version of him I never got. I'm back in that theater, seeing her name on his lips in the dark.
I wonder, if he had met both of us first, would he have chosen me? Is it only because he never met her that he picked me? Who am I next to her?
And Kai. He'll be there. At the wedding. For two weeks. I'll have to watch him exist in the same space as her, watch them be them while I pretend to be fine. I'll have to smile and make small talk and act like my heart wasn't shattered by both of them.
It feels like history repeating itself. Like it will always be her.
I don't realize I'm crying until a tear lands on the page.
I snap the album shut. I can't do this. I can't sit here and pretend like that picture doesn't exist, like she doesn't exist, like the next two weeks aren't about to rip me open all over again.
"Selena?" Lucien's voice is confused, concerned. "What's wrong?"
I scramble to my feet, the blanket falling away. The cold hits me instantly.
"Selena—"
"I can't."
I don't look back. I just run.
Up the stairs, my feet pounding on each step, my vision blurred with tears. I hear him call my name behind me, but I don't stop. I can't stop. If I stop, I'll have to explain, and I can't explain. Not yet. Not when her face is still burned into my mind, not when Kai's name is already a weight in my chest.
I reach our room, shove the door open, and collapse onto the bed, the sobs finally breaking free.