Page 77 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

Him carrying me across the threshold of our apartment. His laughter. His silent promise.

And now...

His voice still echoes in my head, merciless.

“I regret ever loving you. I regret ever knowing you.”

“At least she doesn’t push me away.”

Every word cuts into me. Sharp. Irreversible.

He’s moved on. Completely.

And me...

I don’t even know when I started lying to myself.

When I started hoping again, refusing to let go of a love that still consumes me.

But this time...

It’s over.

In three days, he’s marrying Bianca.

21. Difficult Conversation

Dante

Thursday, December 22

When I arrive at the Trianon Palace on Thursday morning, Bianca is already there.

Dark circles shadow her eyes, hollowed out by the sleepless night I put her through.

The knot in my stomach tightens.

She rises the moment she sees me. Her smile is fragile, almost pleading. She lifts herself onto her toes to kiss me.

By reflex, I turn my head away, and her lips brush my cheek instead.

A shadow crosses her face. She slowly sits back down.

She already ordered for us: steaming coffee, pastries still warm from the oven, freshly cut fruit — as though she’d tried to recreate something normal. Something comforting.

I take the seat across from her.

She pours me a cup automatically. Her hands tremble slightly, as though deep down, she already knows this is our last breakfast together.

“Where did you spend the night?”

“At my parents’ house.”

“Really?”

Her look is skeptical.

Far from unsettling me, her suspicion only reinforces my decision.