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.”

our apartment

corner held memories: the window seat where we’d shared Sunday morning coffee, the kitchen -island where he’d taught me to make his grandmother’s tiramisu.

felt magical now felt poisonous, each memory a thorn in

relationship: the matching “Beauty and Beast” slippers, the “his and hers” coffee mugs that fit together, and

proof that what we had

an elaborate performance.

home

systematically emptied the apartment. I sold or donated every piece of furniture

returned to its original state: stark minimalist, black and white, emptiness echoing off the

him one last

rejection.

Chapter 4

a text

you’re ready to admit your guilt and properly apologize