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."

seeing our apartment for

coffee, the kitchen - island where he'd taught me to make

poisonous, each memory a thorn in

the night methodically erasing our relationship: the matching "Beauty and Beast" slippers, the "his and hers" coffee

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

didn't come home for

systematically emptied the apartment. I sold or donated every piece of furniture I'd chosen, every decorative touch I'd

original state: stark minimalist, black and white, emptiness echoing off

night before my departure, I tried calling him one last time. Each attempt met with

Chapter 4

Finally, a text appeared:

properly apologize to Oriana, we