Chapter 1 - The Empty Plates
"If you can’t even look at my face, why do you keep calling me your wife?"
Rachel barely stayed upright when she asked Daniel that question.
She had only been home for a few days after more than seven hours of reconstructive surgery.
The left side of her face, her neck, and her arm were still tightly wrapped in white medical gauze.
The healing skin pulled with sharp agony every time she even slightly shifted her weight.
Even standing at the kitchen counter too long made her entire body violently remind her of the terrifying fire.
But that afternoon, she had cooked dinner anyway.
Using just one good hand, she followed one familiar recipe.
It was one dinner she desperately hoped might bring back the beautiful life they had before the flames took everything.
Daniel’s absolute favorite meal sat steaming on the dining table when he walked through the front door.
He looked quietly at the plates.
Then he looked at her scarred face.
Then he walked right past both of them without saying a single word.
A few agonizing minutes later, Rachel heard the distinct sound of a leather suitcase being zipped open in the guest bedroom.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice trembling as she stood in the doorway.
"Out of town for client work, maybe a week," he replied coldly.
His phone buzzed loudly inside his expensive suit jacket.
Daniel silenced it immediately without even checking the glowing screen.
"The doctor explicitly said I shouldn’t be left alone yet," Rachel pleaded.
"Call your parents," he said, not even turning around to look at her.
"They’ve already been helping you enough."
Four months earlier, Rachel had run blindly back into a burning house just to save his life.
Neighbors had screamed for her to stay out, but she went back into the inferno anyway.
Through the suffocating black smoke, she had found Daniel completely unconscious and dragged his heavy body toward the front door.
The roaring flames caught the left side of her face, her neck, and her arm just seconds before they made it outside.
Daniel had survived with mild smoke inhalation, a few minor scrapes, and a tiny burn on his hand.
Rachel had spent torturous weeks fighting for her life in the hospital.
When she first woke up, Daniel had held her unbandaged hand beside the hospital bed.
"You saved my life, and I will be here for every single surgery, I swear," he had promised with tears in his eyes.
For the first month, he actually kept that promise.
Then the gentle hugs became significantly shorter.
The second bedroom officially became his permanent room.
Business trips appeared without any prior warning.
Phone calls happened exclusively behind locked bathroom doors.
Before the fire, she worked as a highly successful beauty consultant and model for a luxury cosmetics chain.
Daniel owned a lucrative talent agency, and they had met during a romantic photo shoot three years earlier.
His wealthy parents had once proudly paraded Rachel around, calling her their perfectly beautiful daughter-in-law.
After the fire, they somehow always had a convenient excuse for why they couldn’t visit the hospital.
Rachel had told herself that everyone was just struggling with the trauma.
She had told herself that severe pain temporarily changed people.
Until that terrible night.
Daniel zipped the suitcase shut and grabbed the handle.
"I made your favorite dinner," she whispered.
"I really don’t have time, Rachel," he sighed impatiently.
"Daniel, is there someone else?" she finally asked the question that had been haunting her.
He paused for a fraction of a second.
"You’re just imagining crazy things because you spend way too much time stuck inside this house."
Then he walked out the front door, leaving her completely alone.
Rachel stood silently beside the two untouched plates of food.
For four long months, every single time he disappeared, she had called him.
She had texted him frantically.
She had waited desperately for the little typing bubble to appear on her screen.
This time, she absolutely didn’t.
She walked over to the landline and dialed her parents' number.
When her father arrived thirty minutes later, he immediately saw the cold dinner, the suitcase scuff mark near the door, and the pharmacy bag on the counter.
He didn’t ask her to defend herself or explain the situation.
He didn’t ask why she was still hopelessly waiting for a man who had clearly already left her.
He simply picked up her heavy bag of pain medication.
"Pack whatever you need, sweetheart," he said softly.
He carried the bags toward the open door, and Rachel slowly followed him out into the night.
Before she left, she went to the guest bedroom to grab her favorite sweater from his closet.
May you like
As she reached up, her hand brushed against a small, hidden velvet box tucked behind his expensive ties.
She opened it to find a stunning, flawless diamond engagement ring that certainly did not belong to her.
