My Always and Forever

I am the fiancée of Nick Howard, a name synonymous with the city's glittering elite.
His escapades were tabloid fodder, and the tell-tale marks of his affairs—bruises and bites from shameless lips—always found their way to the pale skin of his collarbone.
I turned a blind eye. I dutifully washed the scent of other women from his shirts, folded his clothes with reverent silence, and never, ever asked a single question.
He’d boast to his friends, a cruel smirk on his face, about his perfect, unobtrusive wife-to-be.
But he never knew the truth. My heart had always belonged to his brother.

1
Nick stumbled home late, reeking of expensive whiskey and a perfume that wasn’t mine.
I winced but moved to help him, guiding his heavy frame toward the sofa. He shoved my hands away with surprising force, his lips moving, mumbling the name of the woman he truly loved.
"Evie… don't leave me."
A familiar numbness washed over me. I knelt and obediently slipped the shoes from his feet, then went to the kitchen to prepare a remedy for his hangover. I was used to this. As his fiancée, I was a ghost in his life, a presence he rarely acknowledged.
I brought back a bowl of warm water and a cloth to clean his face. As I wiped away the grime of the night, my eyes snagged on the mess of marks marring his collarbone. A chaotic constellation of lipstick smears and angry red love bites. They were a declaration of his infidelity, loud and obscene.
The sight was a physical blow, a sharp, stabbing pain. My fingers clenched the hem of my dress, my knuckles white, the fabric digging into my skin until it hurt.
I stood frozen, unable to tear my gaze away from the vulgar display. It was as if the marks were burning a hole right through me.
Suddenly, Nick jolted awake, caught in a nightmare. "Evie, no!" he cried out, his voice thick with sleep and desperation.
He shot upright on the sofa. His eyes landed on me, then followed my gaze to his collarbone. There was no flicker of guilt, no hint of an explanation in his expression.
"Problem?" His voice was ice, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me.
The word died in my throat. For a moment, I was speechless. But wasn't it a wife's right to care for her husband?
I steadied myself. "No. I just saw you were drunk and wanted to clean you up."
Nick slowly, deliberately, fastened the top button of his shirt, hiding the evidence. His voice was smooth and unhurried. "That's what my assistant, Ms. Davies, is for. You don't need to concern yourself with these things."
He rose to his feet, towering over me. "And let's not forget what this is—an arrangement. A merger. We don't have a marriage certificate yet, which means you're not my wife."
His words were like shards of ice piercing my heart. I understood the unspoken message: all my efforts, all the care I thought I was showing, were not just unappreciated—they were laughable.
In his world, I was worthless.
I stared at my pale, trembling fingers. "Fine," I managed to whisper. "I understand."
He rubbed his temples, then paused as if remembering something. He glanced back at me. "And stop making that god-awful hangover cure. It's disgusting."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the vast, silent living room.
I looked down at the calluses on my hands, a bitter lump forming in my throat. I used to be a pampered daughter of privilege, my hands soft and unblemished. I had reshaped my entire life to please him, and this was the result. This broken, pathetic version of myself.
I never asked him to be grateful. All I ever wanted was for him to truly see me.
My phone buzzed violently on the counter. Nick's name flashed on the screen. My heart leaped as I scrambled to answer it.
"Hello?"
The background was a cacophony of music and drunken shouts, but his voice cut through it all, as clear as the day I first met him, making my pulse race.
Trying to sound calm, I asked, "What's wrong?"
Silence stretched on from his end. I was about to ask again when one of his friends, Jake, snatched the phone. His voice was rushed. "Aria? Nick's smashed and he's calling for you. Says he only wants you to come get him. Can you—"
I froze. "Are you sure he asked for me? By name?"
"Absolutely," Jake said, his tone certain. "He's shouting for his fiancée. That's you, right?"
A wildfire of joy erupted in my chest. I fought to keep my voice even. "Okay. Text me the address."
Maybe, I thought, this is it. The moment the glacier finally begins to thaw. The moment he starts to feel something for me.
The bar was on the other side of the city. The night was bitterly cold, but I just threw on a thin coat and ran out. I didn't waste a second changing into warmer clothes; I couldn't bear the thought of making him wait.
Down in the garage, I was met with the gleaming array of luxury cars—a silent testament to the Howard fortune. None of them were for me. I didn't have the keys, the codes, the right of use. My life—my food, my clothes, my transportation—was all managed by Ms. Davies. Every small purchase required her approval. I was a marionette, drowning in the gilded darkness of this penthouse.
His promises. When would he ever keep them? When would he ever come back and truly look at me?
A bitter smile touched my lips. I walked out to the main road and hailed a cab.
The city lights blurred past as I huddled in the back seat, the heater doing little to warm the chill in my bones.
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Young lady, it's late and freezing out. What's the emergency?"
I looked down at my hands. "I'm picking up my fiancé…" The word felt wrong, foreign. He wouldn't like it. "A friend," I corrected myself quickly. "He's had too much to drink."
I saw the driver shake his head with a sigh. "Honey, if a man really loved you, would he be making you come out on a night like this to fetch him?"
I ignored him, turning to stare out the window, my reflection a pale ghost against the dark glass. It wasn't certain yet. Nothing was certain. Even if there was only a one percent chance, I had to believe.
It was nearly two in the morning when I arrived at the hotel. I called Jake's number, but it went straight to voicemail.
As I walked down the plush corridor, I heard a man's mocking laughter spill from a suite.
"No way she actually came. Hahahahaha."
I recognized the voice. It was Jake.
"God, she's so pathetic, isn't she?" another voice chimed in. "What do you think, Howard?"
I stopped, pressing myself into the shadows of an alcove, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Through the crack in the door, I saw him. Nick. He was lounging on a velvet couch, a cigarette dangling from his lips, perfectly composed in his tailored suit. He lifted his head, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. "She's worthless."
My fists clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.
It was all a game. A sick, twisted performance, and I was the fool he was toying with. He had never cared. Not for a single moment.
The fragile hope that had carried me all the way here shattered into a million pieces. I was the clown in his circus.
I gritted my teeth and pushed the door open.
Nick’s eyes widened in momentary surprise when he saw me, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual mask of bored indifference. "Well, look at you," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Such an obedient fiancée."
He was surrounded by a flock of beautiful women in slinky dresses, their eyes fixed on him with adoration.
"Aren't you going to explain?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
"What's to explain?" He exhaled a plume of smoke that made me cough. "Lost a game of truth or dare. Simple as that."
I had raced across the city in the freezing cold for this. For a joke.
"Right," I whispered, a hollow laugh escaping my lips.
My heart, which had been flickering with hope, finally went out. And I knew, this time, it would never reignite.
"Aria," Nick said, stubbing out his cigarette and adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "Learn to stay out of things that don't concern you."
I had already turned to leave, but his words stopped me. I looked back at him, a bright, brittle smile on my face. "Don't worry, Nick. From now on, you'll get exactly what you want."
My duty to him was over. The curtain had fallen.

2
Jake, a stunning brunette draped over his arm, sneered at me. "You really are cheap, Aria." He pushed the woman away and arched a brow. "Since Nick clearly doesn't appreciate you, why don't you come home with me?"
My gaze shifted to Nick. He did nothing. He just watched, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, as if my humiliation was his evening's entertainment. Of course. Why would he care? I was nothing more than dirt beneath his shoes. I could drop dead at his feet and he wouldn't even flinch.
A slow smile spread across my face, my eyes locking with Jake's. "Alright," I said, my voice sweet as poison.
Nick's face darkened instantly. He rose from the shadows, his expression unreadable but radiating a sudden, violent anger. He crossed the room in three long strides, his hand clamping around my throat. The pressure was immense.
"Say that again," he hissed, his eyes blazing.
I found it all so hilarious. Tilting my head, I repeated the words with perfect clarity, "I said... alright."
The veins on his hand bulged as his grip tightened, a raw, hateful force meant to punish me. I didn't understand. Why this rage? He was an enigma, a puzzle I had spent years trying to solve, only to fail at every turn. But his sudden change in behavior didn't matter anymore. Nothing about him mattered.
He used his free hand to grab my chin, forcing my head up, and then his mouth was on mine.
His kiss was an invasion, a conquest, yet underneath the aggression was a ghost of tenderness that disarmed me. The bitter taste of smoke and whiskey filled my mouth, stinging my throat and bringing tears to my eyes.
I don't know when the desperate, bruising kiss ended. I don't want to know.
All I know is that for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, as his lips moved against mine, he felt so much like Leo.
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. "Is it you?" I whispered against his mouth. "Are you back?"
He chuckled, pulling back just enough to flick my forehead with his finger. "What are you dreaming about?"
The past and present blurred into one. The ghost of the man I loved and the cold reality of the man in front of me became indistinguishable. With tears in my eyes, I reached up on my toes and gently ran my fingers through his hair.
Just like old times.
He was finally back.
Nick watched me with a predatory curiosity, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. A dark, dangerous smile played on his face. "Like what you feel?" he murmured. He captured my hand, pulling me closer, intending to wrap me in his arms.
I dug my nails into my own palm, fighting to stay grounded in reality.
But—
He was too much like Leo. The lines were blurring.
The psychedelic lights of the bar danced across his face as he held my hand, that reckless, devil-may-care smile still fixed on his lips.
I could hear the frantic, deafening beat of my own heart.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
"No," I choked out.
And then, a traitorous tear escaped, sliding down my cheek.

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