Chapter 2
Seren caught Sheridan’s coat with practiced ease, the perfume lingering stronger than usual. The scent must have clung to the fabric-a detail she barely
registered, assuming Sheridan’s assistant had simply brushed against it while fetching his clothes.
“I went to get someone from the airport.” Sheridan said, not bothering to hide it, his voice as cold and detached as ever.
He’d spoken to her like this for three years now; their marriage was little more than a formal arrangement. Most days, Seren felt less like a wife and more like an invisible housekeeper, someone who simply slipped in and out of his line of sight. She made an effort, though. After all, she truly wanted to build a life with him.
“Who were you getting?” she asked carefully.
“Willa p>
The name landed like a stone in her chest. Willa Sullivan-Sheridan’s first love, the girl next door, the one who was supposed to be at his side.
But when Sheridan’s accident left him unable to walk, Willa had left for Meridia to study at the conservatory the very same week. It was only because of Willa’s absence that Seren ever had the chance to step into Sheridan’s world.
Now, three years later, Sheridan had recovered, and Willa was back. The timing couldn’t have been more pointed-it was their third wedding anniversary, a date that should have meant something.
Instead, Sheridan was leaving her behind to meet Willa at the airport, as if Seren were nothing more than an afterthought.
Seren hesitated, searching his face for some sign of warmth. “Doesn’t it seem a little inappropriate for you to pick her up yourself p>
She’d always tried to see herself as Mrs. Powers, Sheridan’s partner in every sense. In her mind, Willa was an ex-girlfriend, and Sheridan, now a married man, should keep his distance. That was just how things were supposed to work.
“Stay out of it, Sheridan cut her off, his tone clipped. He hated feeling tied down, hated the expectations that came with marnage. He never wanted to get married in the first place, and if it weren’t for Seren’s unwavering care during his recovery, he would never have agreed.
He owed her, sure-but that debt could be settled with money. Seren had no claim on his conscience or his choices.
He added, almost as an afterthought, “If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave The Golden Age p>
“Alright,” Seren answered softly. She didn’t argue or plead. She simply turned and walked upstairs.
She wasn’t being dramatic or stubborn. She’d simply made up her mind.
Over the past three years, during Sheridan’s worst days, he’d thrown her out of The Golden Age more times than she could count. Each time, na fit of anger, she’d pack her bags, ready to storm out. Butshe never made it past the front
Instead she’d always unpack,
swallow her pride and try to console him. She’d understood his pain, his bitterness, the darkness of being trapped in a broken body.
Back then, nothing he said could really drive her away.
But this time was different. He wasn’t lashing out. He wasn’t even angry. Just indifferent-telling her, almost gently, that if she couldn’t. accept it, she was free to go. His words were so light, so effortless, that it was clear just how little she mattered to him.
It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water over her heart.
All this time, she’d believed Sheridan was her beacon in the darkness, the one bright light she’d chased for three years, never looking back, never doubting.
But now, standing here alone, she realized how tired she was.