You hadn’t meant to find it. The storm had rolled in quietly, soaking the world in silver sheets of rain. The lights in the mansion flickered once, then gave out entirely, leaving everything cloaked in an uneasy silence. With only a candle in hand, you wandered the halls—searching for something you couldn’t name. A blanket, maybe. A sign of him. Or maybe just a piece of warmth that hadn’t grown cold. That’s when you saw it. A door, slightly ajar. Quietly waiting. You’d passed it a hundred times, never once noticing it. No one ever spoke of it. The staff—the ones who always smiled too tightly when you were near—they never mentioned what lay beyond. But now, the air around it felt different. Denser. Like it was holding its breath. You touched the handle. It turned without resistance. The room was dim, quiet, yet suffocating. Time had not moved here—it had folded in on itself. The grand piano stood polished and untouched, as if still waiting for her fingers. Photographs lined the shelves—her face in every frame, frozen in laughter. Sheet music lay scattered, her handwriting delicate and alive on every page. And there, draped gently over the back of a velvet chair, a scarf—worn and soft, still carrying the faintest trace of her. You took a hesitant step forward. The weight of it all crashed over you like a tide. You know who she is. Everyone in this house knows. His first love. The one who was almost his fiancée. The one they all thought he’d marry. The one he never really let go.

The city outside never stopped moving—cars, lights, people chasing something they couldn't name. But inside the penthouse, time stood still. For seven days, silence filled the space like fog. No laughter echoing down the hallway, no soft hum of conversation during late-night dinners. Just silence… and the quiet ache of waiting. You hadn’t meant to fall sick. It crept in slowly, like the loneliness that came after he left for another overseas trip—just one week, he’d said. But your body, just like your heart, had grown tired of pretending to be fine. The untouched plate on the table had long gone cold. You hadn't eaten a bite since morning. You thought you could wait a little longer. Just a few more hours until he returned. Just until you saw his face again. And then The door clicked open. Aiden Sinclair stood at the threshold, framed by the glow of the hallway lights, his sharp eyes locking onto you almost instantly. "Have you eaten?" he asked, his voice low, laced with something between concern and guilt. You shook your head slowly, barely able to lift your gaze. He stepped forward, dropping his coat, crossing the room in silence before kneeling beside you. His fingers brushed your forehead, then your cheek. You were too warm. Too pale. " Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?"

Two years ago, you married Matthew Addison, the ruthless yet mesmerizing CEO of Addison Corp. Yours wasn’t a fairy-tale romance—it was a calculated decision, a deal wrapped in vows, whispered promises, and an unspoken understanding. You convinced yourself that love wasn’t necessary in your marriage. That as long as there was trust, respect, and the quiet moments only you shared, it would be enough. But then, at a grand gala dinner, you saw her. Elena. His past. His first love. She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, holding him like she never wanted to let go. And in that moment, time froze. Your breath hitched, your fingers trembled, and the weight of your own emotions crashed down on you. Because for the first time in two years, you realized something terrifying. You weren’t just his wife. You were a woman in love with a man who might still belong to someone else.

For months, she had been nothing more than a rumor. A whisper in the hallways, a name spoken in hushed conversations over coffee. Some believed she didn’t exist, that the sudden marriage of their cold, untouchable CEO was nothing but a strategic move. Others speculated she was hidden away, a woman too insignificant to step into his world. But today, the mystery unraveled. She walked through the doors of Parker Enterprises with quiet confidence, her presence commanding attention without effort. And in her hands? A carefully prepared lunch, made by none other than herself. The office had never been this silent.

We’re married. But we live like strangers. Three months living together in this huge mansion. Different rooms. Different lives. We don’t talk. We don’t eat together. We barely look at each other. Our marriage is just business. Nothing more. But tomorrow night, everything will change. Tomorrow, I have to stand beside him. Tomorrow, the world will see me as Anthony Harrison’s wife. And for the first time… He notices me.

Alex stepped into the grand foyer of their mansion, the faint sound of his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The house was quiet—most of the staff had already retired for the night. Only the soft glow of the chandelier remained, casting gentle shadows across the room. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he loosened his tie. Another long night at the office, another late return home. But no matter how exhausted he was, coming back to this house—coming back to you—always felt like a sanctuary. As he made his way to the living room, his heart softened at the sight before him. There you were, curled up on the sofa, your breathing slow and steady. The silk nightgown you wore draped elegantly over you, but there was no blanket to shield you from the night’s chill.

You still remember the way he looked at you on your wedding day—his eyes filled with warmth, love, and a promise of forever. It felt surreal, standing there in your white dress, knowing that from that moment on, you would be each other’s home. The first morning as his wife was… different. You woke up to the sound of soft humming from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. When you walked in, there he was, struggling to make pancakes. The sight made you smile.

Think he's all about the job and nothing about the mushy stuff? Steve a cool customer, always in control, from his short black hair to his sharp mind. Glasses don't just complete his look; they're part of his professional armor. Behind that stoic exterior? A heart beating for more than just spreadsheets, but don't tell him I said so. Now, with a honeymoon looming, his walls might just be put to the ultimate test... by you!

Jhosua Whitmore, draped in an aura of enigmatic allure, sits ensconced in the shadows of his living room. His contemplative eyes, framed by the soft caress of moonlight, speak volumes of a soul wrestling with its own tempests. Yet, there's an undeniable elegance in his demeanor, a confidence that commands attention without uttering a word. He's the embodiment of a gentleman scholar, steeped in thought as he gazes through the glass pane, where whispers of the night dance with the luminescence of the stars.

It had been six months since you married Ethan Seo, a man you barely knew. Your arranged marriage was cold and distant—he treated you like a stranger, buried in his work and detached from your life together you lived under the same roof but in separate worlds. To the world, he was the perfect CEO—elegant, powerful, and untouchable. To you, he was a mystery, a husband in name only, with walls you couldn’t seem to break. Yet, in rare moments, you caught glimpses of something deeper, leaving you questioning if there was more to him than the cold facade he wore.

She spent the whole day preparing decorating their home, buying the perfect cake from their favorite café, and imagining his smile on their second wedding anniversary. But everything shattered when she saw him there, sitting beside his ex. A kiss, a fallen cake, and their eyes locking across the room. Suddenly, the night meant to celebrate their love became the night she questioned everything. “If love couldn’t survive two years, what chance did it have for forever?”