Late-Blooming Love Is Too Late

On the sixth anniversary of our marriage, the junior colleague who had been secretly in love with my husband for eight years knelt before me.

She told me that the world we were living in was nothing more than a novel.

And that she and my husband were the destined main characters.

Because of my interference, she claimed, the plot had gone off course, and our world was on the verge of collapse.

Only by setting things rightby them holding a weddingcould everything be restored.

I asked my husband, Paul, if he actually believed such a ridiculous story.

His brow furrowed instantly, and his voice was raw.

"This is just to fix the plot, Cici. Why are you making a scene?"

I nodded, turned around, and handed him a divorce agreement.

Attached was a corporate resolution to remove him from his position.

Our sixth wedding anniversary also happened to be my birthday.

That evening, as I was in the kitchen preparing a celebratory dinner for Paul and me, I heard the front door open.

"Paul, you're home! Go wash your hands"

The rest of the words caught in my throat.

Because Paul was standing there, hand in hand with Sophia, the junior colleague who had been obsessed with him for eight years, their fingers intertwined.

The intimacy of the gesture stole my breath. The welcoming smile I hadn't had time to retract froze on my face, making me look utterly foolish.

"What... what is the meaning of this?"

Paul looked down, about to speak, when Sophia suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me.

"Cici, please, let me explain."

She held out a small, leather-bound book, her voice choked with emotion. "The truth is, our world isn't real. We're living inside a novel."

"And in this novel, Paul and I are the main characters. We're the ones who are meant to be together."

"I never wanted to destroy your relationship, but the plot has deviated so much. If we don't correct it, the world will collapse..."

A wave of absurdity washed over me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What did you say? A novel?"

I took the book from her and began to flip through it.

To my shock, the story inside was a perfect reflection of the three of us.

Even the most private, secret moments between Paul and me were documented in meticulous detail.

The only difference was the ending.

In the novel, Paul and Sophia lived happily ever after, while I remained unmarried for the rest of my life.

On the very last page, a single paragraph was written in stark, bold letters.

[WARNING: If the plot has been derailed, Paul must hold a wedding for Sophia and embark on a honeymoon with her, as a real married couple would.]

[Failure to do so will result in the collapse of this world, and all will be annihilated.]

I snapped the book shut, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Paul looked at me, the love and deep affection that once filled his eyes now replaced by an endless, chilling indifference.

His tone was cold enough to freeze water. "Cici, you have to accept reality."

"I have to marry Sophia. You and I... we were the mistake."

A fire ignited in my chest, scorching my insides until I could barely breathe.

"Don't tell me you actually believe this garbage." I couldn't stop myself from screaming. "Paul, have you lost your goddamn mind?"

"Then you tell me!" he roared back, his voice suddenly sharp. "How else could every single private detail of our lives be written in here so perfectly?"

I froze, unable to find a single word in my defense.

Seeing my silence, Paul scoffed. He helped Sophia to her feet and wrapped a protective arm around her.

"Whether you can accept it or not, this is the truth."

"Sophia is my fated wife."

He started to lead her toward the door. The simple action was like a tiny, sharp needle, plunging directly into my heart.

"Paul!"

I lurched forward, my voice a raw cry. "If you walk out that door with her today, I will divorce you!"

He turned back, his gaze dark and heavy as he stared at me.

Then, he spat out two words, cold and final.

"You're being completely irrational."

And with that, he left with Sophia, never once looking back.

I didn't snap out of my daze until the smell of burning food drifted from the kitchen.

A light rain had begun to fall outside.

I walked to the window and looked down, just in time to see Paul carefully shielding Sophia from the rain as he helped her into his car.

He treated her as if she were the most precious, fragile thing in the world.

The sight made me dizzy.

It seemed like only yesterday that he spoke of her with nothing but contempt.

Sophia had been Paul's protg at the firm.

She had chased him for eight long years.

Even back in college, she was bold, declaring her love for him in any setting, regardless of who was around. She would wait for him outside his dorm every morning with breakfast. He never took it, but she was always there, a persistent annoyance he couldn't shake.

When he played basketball, her cheers were louder than mine, completely ignoring the stares of everyone around us.

People used to mock her for throwing herself at him only to be rejected.

She would just laugh it off, her voice ringing with conviction. "I love him. There's nothing shameful about that."

Her brazen attitude completely disregarded my existence as his actual girlfriend.

Back then, Paul would wrap his arm around my waist and sneer at her, "You have no shame."

That was the first time I ever saw Sophia cry.

Her eyes were red, but she forced a defiant smile as tears streamed down her face. The wind tousled her hair, giving her a look of broken beauty.

I remember Paul's fingers tightening on my waist.

At the time, I just thought he felt a flicker of guilt for making a young woman cry.

But looking back now, perhaps that was the moment his heart began to soften for her, a seed of pity and affection taking root.

I clutched my chest, a sharp pain radiating from its very core.

I couldn't understand how, in just a few short months, they could have become so close.

Could it really be true?

Could this world really be just a novel?

My gaze fell upon the book, still lying discarded on the floor.

I picked it up and started from the beginning, searching for clues.

The early parts of the story were indeed a perfect match to our shared history.

But it was the chapter detailing the shift in their relationship that made my blood run cold.

According to the book, on Sophia's 23rd birthday, she sent Paul a message.

She asked him to meet her at a hotel, her words brutally direct, a plea dripping with desperate hope.

[This is the fifth year I've been in love with you. I just want one dream to come true. Please, I'm begging you.]

Two hours later, Paul replied with a single word: [Okay.]

My entire body began to shake.

I remembered that day all too well. It was the day I was rear-ended in a car accident. The day I had a miscarriage and was rushed to the hospital.

I had called Paul over and over, but my calls went unanswered.

He showed up later, his eyes red with feigned remorse, explaining that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me, healing the damage done to my body.

I never imagined the reason he didn't answer my calls was because he was keeping an appointment with her.

And his promises to be "better" weren't born of love; they were a hollow penance for his guilt.

By the time I reached the end of the book, I was sobbing, tears blurring the words on the page.

The immense grief was like a thousand arrows piercing my heart.

I don't know how long I cried before I finally fell into a restless, exhausted sleep.

When I was woken by noises the next morning, the rain had long since stopped.

Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the world in a bright, clear light, free of shadows.

For a fleeting moment, I almost believed that everything that had happened yesterday was just a terrible nightmare.

But the sound of conversation from the other room shattered that illusion.

I got out of bed and opened my door to see Sophia helping Paul pack a suitcase.

When she saw me, she bit her lip, a picture of shy embarrassment, but her eyes couldn't hide a flicker of triumph.

"Oh, Cici. I'm so sorry, did we wake you?"

"Paul is taking me on a destination wedding and honeymoon, so I came over to help him pack."

I stared at the suit she was holdinga suit I had personally chosen for himand found myself speechless.

Suddenly, Sophia's eyes welled with tears. "Cici, did I upset you?"

"I'm so sorry. What can I do to make you forgive me?"

With that, she made a show of starting to kneel again.

Instantly, Paul strode over, pulled her up, and wrapped her in his arms, pointing an accusing finger at me.

"What the hell are you doing, Cici? Why are you bullying her like this?"

"We are doing this to fix the plot, to stop the world from collapsing! What right do you have to make her kneel and apologize?!"

"We haven't done anything wrong!"

His voice grew louder, each word a hammer blow to my heart.

I stared at him, a heavy stone lodged in my chest, making it impossible to breathe. My eyes were sore and swollen, but it felt as though I had no tears left to cry.

"Paul, from the moment I walked out here, I haven't said a single word."

My voice was a raw, hoarse whisper, but I held my head high, refusing to let him see how broken I was. "Why are you screaming at me?"

"Do you... feel even a shred of guilt towards me? Your wife?"

He was silent for a long moment, but there was no pity in his eyes, only a cold, detached calm. "Cici, that titlewifewas something you stole in the first place."

"If anyone should feel ashamed, it's you. You took the role that was always meant for Sophia."

A laugh, empty and broken, escaped my lips. I felt all my strength drain away, and I collapsed onto the sofa.

I watched, numb, as they finished packing and left.

A short while later, my phone buzzed.

I picked it up and saw a notification from my bank. A charge from a high-end wedding planning agency.

The amount was over a million dollars.

My breath hitched. The dam of anger and grief finally broke, flooding me with a white-hot rage.

I couldn't take it anymore. I drove straight to the agency.

I burst through the door just as Paul was about to sign the contract.

I snatched the pen from his hand, my voice shaking with fury. "Paul, are you insane? This is our marital property!"

"How can you spend this much money on a wedding for her?!"

Before the staff could intervene, Paul shoved me aside.

He was so strong that a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. I staggered back, nearly falling to the floor.

"You're just a housewife, Cici," he sneered. "I earn all the money in this family. You have no right to tell me how to spend it!"

His words were like daggers.

My world seemed to stop. I couldn't hear anything but the roaring in my ears, as a suffocating darkness enveloped me.

The company, Langford Enterprises, was the legacy my father had left me.

The year I graduated from college, my father passed away from a long illness, leaving me his entire business empire.

During those dark days, I barely slept. It was only with the help of my father's old friends on the board and the constant support of Paul that I managed to keep Langford Enterprises from crumbling.

In our second year of marriage, I became pregnant.

Paul convinced me to step back and focus on our family, to hand the reins of the company over to him.

I never, ever imagined this was what he truly thought of me.

Seeing me speechless, Paul let out a cold laugh.

He ripped the pen from my hand and signed the contract with a flourish.

Then, he took Sophia's hand and walked straight past me, out the door, without a single backward glance.

For the next month, Paul never contacted me.

Then, on the last day, a package arrived.

I opened it. It was filled with photographs.

Wedding photos, travel photos, selfies.

They all had one thing in common: the only two people in them were Paul and Sophia.

And in every single one, their happiness was radiant, practically leaping off the page.