CHAPTER 3 : THE FIRST LOVE RETURNS

The applause just kept going, loud and relentless, crashing around the ballroom. It almost hurt—the way every clap felt aimed straight at Evelyn’s chest. She stood frozen under the chandeliers, looking out at a room full of people celebrating the end of her marriage like it was some kind of victory. Damian Black. Her husband. The man she’d loved for seven years. And the man who just stood up in front of everyone and introduced another woman as his future wife. Isabella Sinclair stood beside him, all calm smiles, soaking up the congratulations as if she already belonged there. Like Evelyn was nothing. Like seven years would just dissolve because Isabella showed up. Evelyn gripped the divorce papers so tight the edges bit into her fingers. She welcomed the sting. It was a small distraction from the bigger, sharper pain that had settled in her chest. “Congratulations, Mr. Black!” “What wonderful news!” “You two look perfect together!” Clapping, chatter, praise from every direction. Investors. Business partners. Socialites. Even people Evelyn had thought of as family. People who’d stood up and toasted her and Damian at their wedding, now smiling at him and Isabella as if they’d been rooting for this all along. Fairytale ending—built out of Evelyn’s broken heart. She swallowed. Her eyes stung but she blinked hard, refusing to let tears fall. Not here. Not in front of them. Not while Isabella looked so triumphant. Laughter caught her ear—sharp, bright, cruel. A group of women were whispering behind their glasses of champagne. “I always knew Isabella was the one.” “The chemistry between them’s obvious.” “Evelyn was never his equal.” There it was. Evelyn felt the heat drain from her face, all blood and air seemed to rush out of her at once. Never his equal. That’s what they thought. They’d already rewritten the story. No one remembered Damian before the money and the headlines. No one remembered the struggle, the tight apartments, the nights when there wasn’t enough left for rent. But Evelyn remembered. All of it. Seven years ago, rain battered a little apartment. The power was out. The fridge was almost empty. Damian had just gotten another rejection from some investor who didn’t believe in him. He sat at the kitchen table, hollowed out, defeated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he’d said, and for a second she thought maybe that was it. But she went over, wrapped her arms around him, told him, “You can.” “No, I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “No investor wants me.” “They’re wrong.” “I have nothing left.” “You have me.” He’d actually looked up then. Really saw her. She was his whole world, whether he could admit it or not. That night, she’d sold her mother’s gold necklace to pay the rent. She never told him. It just… didn’t matter as much as his dream did. Now, standing in this ballroom, a stabbing ache spread through her chest. Where did that Damian go? The one who told her he’d never leave. The one who used to squeeze her hand and say they’d get through anything together. The one who once whispered, “When I succeed, you’ll have the whole world.” He’d forgotten, hadn’t he? Maybe she’d never been part of his future after all. The applause was finally dying down, but her humiliation sure wasn’t. She watched Damian and Isabella—Isabella rested her hand on his arm, and he didn’t move an inch. Didn’t pull away. It looked comfortable. Familiar, even. Like she’d been there for a while. A sick realization crawled into Evelyn’s thoughts. How long had this been going on? Weeks? Months? Longer? Instinctively, she found Damian’s eyes. For one second, the noise faded, the crowd blurred, and it was just them—husband and wife standing on the last crumbling bit of what they’d built. She searched his expression, desperately trying to find… something. Any sign that this was hard for him too. Regret, guilt, anything. But all she saw was cold purpose. It hurt even more than she’d expected. Isabella stepped forward. The crowd pressed closer, hungry for gossip. Cameras flashed. Reporters jockeyed for space. Isabella smiled for them—perfect posture, perfect face. “I guess it’s finally time to stop hiding,” she said, and the whole room leaned in. Damian nodded. Isabella paused, soaking up the drama. “The truth is, the bond Damian and I share never disappeared.” Everything went quiet. Evelyn’s heart pounded. No, don’t do this. Please don’t. But Isabella was in control now, and she was enjoying it. “Some people are simply meant to find their way back to each other,” she said. More nods. More smiles. Evelyn’s stomach churned. Isabella’s eyes flicked toward Evelyn, just for a second, like tossing a scrap to an animal. Then she turned back. “Damian never truly stopped loving me,” she finished. Gasps. More flashes. The questions started flying. “Are you saying you’ve stayed in touch all these years?” “When did it start again?” “Was it before the divorce?” Evelyn’s whole body went cold. Her mind snagged on those words: Damian never stopped loving me. Was that it? Did he marry her but love someone else the whole time? Did all the affection, the promises, the anniversaries—were they just… lies? She was suffocating. She wanted to slip out, disappear, but her legs wouldn’t move. Isabella looked radiant in the spotlight. Damian didn’t say a word—no denial, no gentle correction. Just stood there, letting Isabella’s story become the new truth. The betrayal nearly broke her. The crowd around them started calling it a “romantic story.” “True love wins.” “Some people are meant for each other.” Evelyn might as well have never existed. Just the person the real couple had to wait out. Then an older investor raised his glass. “To Damian and Isabella!” And the room exploded again. Laughter, toasts, cheers. Like this was a wedding party. She felt utterly, alarmingly alone. A tear escaped before she could stop it. She wiped it away fast. No, not here. Not anymore. Not tonight. But then— “Mrs. Black.” A reporter, young and hungry, cut through the noise. Everyone turned. All eyes locked on Evelynn. He smiled a little as he raised the mic—nothing kind in it. “Given what we’ve learned tonight… were you just a temporary wife until Damian found his true love again?” It was so quiet you could hear glasses clink across the room. Was she just a placeholder? A backup? Someone good enough for a few years, until the queen returned? Every sacrifice flashed across her mind. Every time she’d paid the bills, pushed her own dreams aside, chosen Damian first. Temporary. Her heart broke all over again. Slowly, she looked up. First at the reporter. Then at Isabella. And finally, Damian—who stood there, silent, waiting, maybe hoping she’d just disappear. She wanted one thing. Just a word, one decent thing from Damian to say she’d mattered. That their life together was real. But he said nothing. And in that silence, Evelyn got her answer.