Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica I Choose The Arranged Marriage

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."

home, I found myself really seeing our apartment for the first time in seven

we'd shared Sunday morning coffee, the kitchen - island where he'd taught me to make

magical now felt poisonous, each memory

"his and hers" coffee mugs that fit together, and a whole collection of professional couple photographs-holiday cards, vacation shots, carefully

security blanket, my proof that what we had was real. Now they were just artifacts of

didn't come home

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,

I tried calling him one last time.

Chapter 4

Finally, a text appeared:

properly apologize to Oriana, we have nothing to