Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica, I Choose The Arranged Marriag by BlueMoone

Chapter 4

Seven years together. I’d thought that would mean something that Castro would at least trust my

character.

But in Oriana’s presence, those seven years might as well have been seven minutes.

Her word alone was enough to condemn me. One accusation, and I was guilty beyond redemption.

The favoritism was unmistakable, his blind devotion to her undeniable. And me? I was just the understudy who’d forgotten her place.

There was no point in arguing further. Ignoring Castro’s angry calls, I walked away, my cheek still stinging from his slap.

Not wanting to cast a shadow over my colleagues‘ celebration, I quietly settled the bill and texted them: “Something came up. Please enjoy the rest of the evening – dinner’s on me.”

found myself really seeing our apartment for the first time in seven years.

held memories: the window seat where we’d shared Sunday morning coffee, the kitchen

felt poisonous, each memory a thorn

and Beast” slippers, the “his and hers” coffee mugs that fit together, and a whole collection of professional couple photographs–holiday cards, vacation shots,

had been my security blanket, my proof that what we had was

an elaborate performance.

home for two weeks.

jewelry designs,, I systematically emptied the apartment. I sold or donated every piece of furniture I’d chosen, every decorative

space returned to its original state: stark minimalist,

calling him one last time. Each attempt met

rejection.

Chapter 4

a text appeared:

ready to admit your guilt and properly apologize to Oriana, we have nothing to discuss.”