Chapter 12 #2
"The wedding was Father's arrangement." My voice stayed steady even as my nails dug into my palm. "After you left, things happened fast."
"I knew." She nodded gently. "That night, I saw you in the hallway, coming out of Kiryan's room. You told me to leave with dignity. I thought..." She looked up, soft and wounded. "I thought Kiryan had let you tell me. That was why I went abroad."
The lie slid out of her mouth smooth as silk. Sweet enough to swallow.
Kiryan didn't speak. His eyes stayed on Isabella. Days ago he'd said he'd trust me, but the second she appeared, he looked like he was slipping.
"I never said that to you," I said, calm as ice. "And I never forced you to leave."
My denial seemed to sting her. She gave a bitter little smile. "Maybe. But back then I barely slept. After I left, I bounced from city to city. I didn't dare call anyone. I didn't dare ask about Kiryan. I thought if I got far enough away, everyone would breathe easier."
She painted herself as the cleanest victim in the room. Kiryan flicked a glance at me, and the hesitation in his eyes punched right into my ribs.
"You don't have to explain," Isabella said softly. "And don't worry—I didn't come back to steal Kiryan. I just... every day out there, I knew more and more that I still love him. I only wanted to see him once. To make sure he is okay. If he chooses you, I'll leave."
She sounded so gentle, like she was the one who'd been shattered and still decided to be gracious.
Kiryan bought it.
"We need to talk. Alone." He dropped the words and led her out of the ballroom.
I told myself he just needed the truth. He'd promised—he wouldn't let other people define me, he wouldn't convict me before I spoke, he'd learn how to be a real husband.
I should've believed him.
But their backs as they walked away made panic claw at my throat.
I couldn't keep hosting. My feet moved before my brain caught up, chasing after them.
At the end of the hall, the terrace door sat slightly ajar. Isabella's muffled sobs slipped through the crack.
"I regretted it every day," she said. "I missed you, Kiryan. I never stopped loving you."
I stood in the shadows and watched Isabella grab his jacket.
"Isabella," he said her name low, no emotion giving him away. "You shouldn't have left like that."
"I knew." Her crying grew heavier. "I wanted to come back every day, but I was scared you didn't want me anymore." She swallowed a sob. "I told myself leaving was right. That you'd forget me eventually. I tried, Kiryan. I really tried."
"Don't make this worse."
"It already got worse the night you and Elena slept together." Her voice snapped. "Just tell me you don't feel anything for me anymore, and I'll go. Right now."
Kiryan didn't answer.
Isabella stared at him. "See? You still love me."
She rose on her toes, leaning in to kiss him.
Kiryan didn't push her away.
My world went silent, like someone had hit a mute button. I knew what came next. I couldn't watch it.
I stumbled away, running.
When I got back to the ballroom, the band played on. Guests still laughed and talked with drinks in their hands, like the storm that could ruin me hadn't just torn through the building.
My fist was clenched so tight it hurt. I was scared I'd collapse at any second.
"Keep squeezing like that, and you won't be able to hold a paintbrush tomorrow." Yegor sat beside me and slid a glass of water in front of me. "That bastard still isn't back?"
"Kiryan just needs time to clear the past with her." I needed that to be true. I needed it like oxygen.
Yegor's jaw flexed like he swallowed something sharper.
"Maybe. But whatever he has to handle, he shouldn't leave you standing here alone, playing hostess, pretending nothing happened." He exhaled. "If you want to leave early, I can take you back. Nobody gets the right to blame you."
"Thanks, but I can't go."
"I knew you'd say that." His gaze held on my face a moment, his voice dropping. "Then don't carry it alone."
I started to answer—then a shadow fell across us.
Kiryan came back by himself. Isabella wasn't at his side. The selfish part of me felt relieved anyway. At least he'd returned to me.
His eyes went to the water in front of me, then to Yegor.
"Yegor."
"Happy birthday." Yegor looked up. "Your wife was sitting here alone. I was talking with her."
"Thanks for looking after my wife." Kiryan's hand settled on my waist.
Those words hit my already-frozen chest and somehow sparked a pathetic little thread of hope anyway.
Yegor's mouth curved with a faint, cutting edge. "Sure. But when you walked out earlier, you looked like you forgot you had a wife."
"I had something to handle."
"Then handle it fast. Elena shouldn't have to clean up your past." Yegor nodded to me and walked away.
Kiryan watched him go, then silently shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The familiar cedar scent wrapped around me, giving me a thin scrap of safety.
"Where is Isabella?" I asked anyway. I couldn't stop myself.
"I had her leave the party. She came back too suddenly."
I understood why Kiryan wavered. Isabella had been his chosen fiancée. He'd searched for her for so long. She came back out of nowhere, crying, saying she still loved him—anyone would need time to figure out what the hell was going on.
But he might never want to believe Isabella had staged all of it.
After the party ended, Kiryan didn't plan on coming back with me.
"I'm going to find Isabella and talk," he said.
I wanted to be selfish just once. I wanted to tell him not to go. To ask him who he actually loved—me or Isabella.
But I stayed where I was, and I watched him leave again.
On the first night Isabella came back, my husband chose to be with her.