CHAPTER 15: The Crack in the Perfect Lie
Elira stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers trembling as she clutched the golden pendant Zayn gave her on their wedding day. It was supposed to symbolize a new beginning. Instead, it now felt like a shackle—one she willingly wore, blind to the truth that had been unraveling around her.
The whispers started subtly.
A maid avoiding eye contact.
A text Zayn hid too quickly.
A strange perfume lingering on his shirts—floral, not hers.
At first, she convinced herself it was paranoia. But when the third anonymous message popped up on her phone—*"You deserve better. He's not loyal."*—Elira couldn't ignore it any longer.
That evening, Zayn came home late. Again.
"You're home late," she said quietly, not turning away from the window.
Zayn loosened his tie, dropping his keys on the counter. "Meetings ran over."
"Was she worth it?" she asked suddenly.
Silence filled the room.
Zayn stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"You tell me," she whispered. "The perfume. The late nights. The sudden warmth that disappears when I look away."
"Elira, stop. You're being dramatic."
She turned to face him. "Then tell me I'm wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't been with someone else."
He opened his mouth but said nothing.
Her heart shattered at that pause. That moment of hesitation was louder than any confession.
"I trusted you," she said, voice cracking. "Even when you hated me, I stayed. Even when you were cold, I believed there was still something good in you."
Zayn looked away, jaw clenched. "It wasn't supposed to happen."
A sob broke from her chest. "Who is she?"
Zayn didn't answer.
"I said, who is she?!"
He finally whispered, "Her name is Amara."
Elira's world tilted. Amara. The name felt like poison on her tongue. Someone he once claimed was just a colleague. Someone who looked at Elira too long during a company dinner.
"How long?" she asked.
Zayn swallowed. "A few months."
A tear slid down her cheek. "So while I was trying to save this marriage, you were building another one behind my back?"
"I didn't mean to hurt you—"
"But you did!"
The pain in her voice shook him. She pushed past him, retreating to the bedroom and locking the door behind her.
She collapsed on the floor, her chest heaving. Her mind raced with everything—memories of their growing connection, the soft smiles, the way he held her hand at the hospital when her father passed. Was all of it a lie?
She didn't sleep that night.
But in the morning, something in her had changed.
She came out dressed sharply, her face unreadable. Zayn looked up from the table, clearly surprised.
"I'll be staying at my sister's for a while," she said. "I need space."
"Elira—"
"No. Don't make this harder. You made your choice."
Zayn stood, his voice suddenly desperate. "I didn't choose her over you."
"But you still chose her."
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
As the door shut behind her, Zayn sat back down, realizing too late what he'd broken.
And for the first time since their wedding… he was the one left behind.