In my previous life—
"What, Dad?! You want me to marry Marcus Delacuesta? No!! I told you, I won't marry anyone! I'm going to finish my studies!" I yelled at him, my chest rising and falling as I stood there, refusing to accept the marriage.
This marriage is a cage for me.
I want to become a successful fashion designer. I want to build my own name. My own brand. My own future.
But if I marry Marcus, my dreams will stay exactly that—dreams.
Untouched. Unlived. Dead before they even begin.
My father's eyes softened as he looked at me. And that scared me more than if he had shouted back.
He looked tired.
Older.
"Lana… just this time. Do this for our company. If we lose this deal, forget about your studies." His voice dropped, heavy and grave. "We'll go bankrupt."
For a second, I thought I misheard him.
I stared at him, my mind refusing to process the words.
"What? Us? Going bankrupt? How is that even possible?" I muttered, almost to myself.
We were powerful. Untouchable. One of the largest corporations in the country. People bowed their heads when they saw our name.
But looking at my father's expression… the faint trembling in his hands… the way he avoided my eyes—
It wasn't a joke.
It wasn't an exaggeration.
It was the truth.
"W-What? What happened, Dad? What are you saying? We're one of the largest corporations! How could we go bankrupt?" My voice trembled despite my effort to stay strong.
For the first time in my life, I saw fear in my father's eyes.
And that terrified me more than the thought of marrying Marcus ever did.
My father's expression darkened. The light in his eyes disappeared, replaced by something heavy and broken. He pulled me into a tight hug, his arms trembling around me.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I… I didn't want to tell you this but…" His voice cracked. I could feel his chest shaking against mine. "Your mother left us. She took all our money and sold our company assets."
For a moment, the world stopped.
My ears rang.
"She… chose to be with her new boyfriend and left us."
His words felt unreal. Like they were meant for someone else.
My face froze in disbelief.
What?
My own mother?
Yes, I know she was never the best mother. Ever since I was a child, she was always out partying, always chasing luxury, always more concerned about her image than her family. I grew up used to her absence. Used to empty seats at school events. Used to excuses.
But to run away like this?
To drain everything?
To leave our family without even a single penny?
That wasn't just selfish.
That was cruel.
Tears streamed down my face as I looked at my father. The man who always stood tall in front of investors, who commanded respect in boardrooms, now looked shattered. Smaller. Defeated.
He had been betrayed by his own wife.
And now, he was asking his daughter to sacrifice her future to clean up the mess.
My heart ached—not just for myself, but for him.
I closed my eyes for a second, swallowing the lump in my throat. My dreams flashed before me—the sketches in my notebook, the fashion school brochures hidden in my drawer, the future I had imagined so clearly.
And then they slowly faded.
"I understand…" My voice was quiet, but steady. I wiped my tears and forced myself to stand straighter. "I'll marry Marcus Delacuesta."
The words tasted bitter.
In that moment, I steeled my resolve and buried my dreams.
If sacrificing my future could save my father and our business…
Then so be it.
The Delacuesta Family is the second largest corporation, just below ours, and they've been close family friends for years. Our names were always mentioned together in business magazines and elite gatherings.
Yet I had never seen Marcus before.
I studied abroad since I was young. While our families discussed contracts and alliances, I was sketching dresses in a foreign dorm room, chasing a dream that now felt very far away.
After I agreed to the marriage, Marcus and I met for the very first time.
The meeting was arranged at a reserved five-star restaurant — the kind where chandeliers sparkle like diamonds and the air smells faintly of expensive wine and polished marble.
And then I saw him.
A handsome man. Tall. Broad shoulders. A well-toned body outlined perfectly by his tailored suit. His features were sharp, almost sculpted, as if he belonged on the cover of a magazine.
He was already waiting for me.
Not standing.
Not greeting.
Just sitting there.
Watching.
I walked toward him, every step heavy, and sat across from him.
He didn't smile.
Not even out of courtesy.
He didn't ask how I was. Didn't offer me water. Didn't pretend.
He went straight to the point.
"Break up the engagement," he said coldly, his eyes indifferent. "I have a lover."
Just like that.
No hesitation. No apology.
The words hit me harder than I expected.
For a second, I felt strangely relieved.
Good, I thought. That makes things easier. We don't love each other anyway. This is just business.
I opened my mouth, ready to agree.
Ready to walk away.
But then—
My father's face flashed in my mind.
His trembling hands.
His defeated eyes.
The word bankrupt echoed in my head.
I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms.
My pride screamed at me to stand up and leave.
But I swallowed it.
"P-Please… don't do this." My voice trembled despite my effort to sound calm. I lowered my gaze, something I had never done to anyone before. "I'm willing to do anything. Just… don't break the engagement."
The silence that followed felt endless.
He didn't soften.
He didn't even look conflicted.
Instead, he stood up abruptly, the sound of his chair scraping against the marble floor echoing through the quiet restaurant.
Without another word, he walked away.
Leaving me there.
Alone.
In the middle of a vast, luxurious restaurant where a few curious glances had already started to turn in my direction.
I could feel the humiliation washing over me, hot and suffocating.
I had never been treated this way before.
Never begged.
Never been dismissed like I was nothing.
But I couldn't give up.
I couldn't let my pride destroy what little chance we had left.
I couldn't let my father lose everything.
I couldn't let us starve.
So even if it meant throwing away my dignity—
I would endure it.
I stubbornly insisted on marrying him. There was guilt in my heart—I knew I had destroyed a relationship and forced my way into his life.
After the announcement of our marriage, his lover, Selena—his precious childhood sweetheart—ran away.
She disappeared without a trace.
And from that day on, Marcus treated me even more coldly.
His words became sharper. His eyes, emptier. Every conversation felt like a duty. Every meal we shared felt like sitting across from a stranger.
Yet I continued to love him.
Foolishly. Desperately.
I told myself that if I tried harder, if I stayed patient, if I endured quietly, maybe one day he would change his mind. Maybe one day he would look at me the way he once looked at her.
I stayed understanding. I never argued. I never blamed him.
I knew I wasn't the woman he loved.
But I believed that one day… he would see me differently.
And for a moment, I thought I was right.
After two years of searching for Serena and finding no clue of her whereabouts, something in him began to shift. The anger slowly faded. The cold distance softened just a little. He started talking to me more—not much, but enough.
Enough to give me hope.
All I did was beg for his forgiveness. I never gave excuses. I never defended myself. I carried the blame alone—for my father, for the company, for ruining his love story.
I accepted everything.
Then one night, he came home drunk.
His steps were unsteady. His tie was loose. His eyes were clouded with alcohol and something deeper—loneliness, maybe.
He came to me.
That night, we became husband and wife in the truest sense.
For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was in heaven. Like I was finally being chosen. His hands held me tightly, and I closed my eyes, convincing myself that this was love.
That I was finally loved.
But then—
He whispered a name.
Softly. Breathlessly.
It wasn't mine.
It was Selena.
My entire body went cold.
Even so, I didn't push him away.
I gritted my teeth and endured it.
I let him hold me. Let him mistake me for another woman. Let him love someone else while he was with me.
It was beyond humiliation.
It was the slow death of my dignity.
And still—
I stayed.
After that night, maybe because of guilt—maybe because he finally remembered what he had done—he started treating me more warmly.
He didn't apologize directly.
Marcus was never the type to say sorry.
But his actions softened. He began coming home earlier. He asked about my day. Sometimes, he would even sit beside me on the couch without that suffocating distance between us.
And slowly… our marriage became better.
For three years, we lived like a normal couple.
We had dinner together. We attended events side by side. He would occasionally hold my hand in public, and those small gestures were enough to make my heart race.
We even started planning for a family.
We would talk about baby names at night—laughing softly, debating which ones sounded better. He once said if we had a girl, she would look like me. That memory still hurts.
For the first time, I felt like we were a perfect couple.
I thought he had already forgotten about Serena.
I was wrong.
In the fourth year of our marriage, Serena came back.
Not quietly.
Not secretly.
She returned openly, confidently—as if she had every right to reclaim what was hers.
And she did.
She openly won Marcus over again.
At first, I didn't panic. I believed that the bond we built over the past three years was strong enough. I believed that what we had was real.
But after she came back, everything changed.
Marcus became distant again.
Cold.
He stopped coming home some nights. Then some weeks.
He said he had business meetings.
Late-night negotiations. Overseas calls. Important deals.
I didn't doubt him.
I didn't want to doubt him.
Because by that time… I was already deeply in love with him.
Truly in love.
Then, after another year—
I finally found out I was pregnant.
I stared at the test result in disbelief. My hands were shaking. Tears filled my eyes.
Five years of trying.
Five years of silent prayers.
And it finally happened.
I didn't even stop to think.
I rushed to his office, wanting to surprise him. Wanting to see his face light up. Wanting to tell him that I could give him the one thing he thought I couldn't.
I didn't knock.
I opened the door.
And there—
I froze.
Marcus and Serena were kissing each other inside his office.
Not hesitating.
Not hiding.
Just kissing.
Like I didn't exist.
Marcus immediately dragged me out of his office and into the car, saying we should talk about this peacefully at home.
Peacefully.
The word sounded almost laughable.
I followed him anyway.
What else could I do?
The entire ride was silent. The tension between us was suffocating. His jaw was clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. I kept staring at my trembling hands resting on my stomach—on the life growing inside me.
I was supposed to tell him.
I was supposed to surprise him.
But the moment we stepped into our house and entered our bedroom—
He turned around and slapped me hard.
The sound echoed sharply in the room.
My head snapped to the side.
For a second, I couldn't even process what had happened.
His eyes were ice-cold as he glared at me. There was no guilt. No shame. Only irritation.
"Why did you go there?" he demanded.
As if I was the one who did something wrong.
As if I was the one betraying him.
We argued. Voices raised. Words thrown like knives.
And then—
He said it.
Serena is carrying my child.
Those words crushed me more than the slap ever could.
I felt my chest tighten. My throat burned.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to run.
Run far away from him. From this house. From this marriage that had been choking me for years.
But before I could reach the door, he shoved me hard.
I wasn't prepared.
My body flew backward, and my stomach hit the cabinet edge with a sickening force.
The pain was instant.
Sharp. Blinding.
I collapsed, clutching my abdomen as warmth spread between my legs.
Blood.
That was the moment I lost everything.
My life.
And my child's life.
—
Back to the present.
I turned my head slowly and watched his figure lying next to me on the bed.
Marcus.
Sleeping so peacefully.
So defenseless.
So unaware.
"Pathetic." I muttered under my breath, a low, bitter laugh escaping me. "You claim that you love Serena, yet here you are… in bed with me. Claiming my virginity once again."
How ironic.
Now that I don't love him anymore, I can see everything clearly.
The lies.
The hypocrisy.
The selfishness.
Love truly is blinding.
And now that my eyes are open—
I won't be blind again.