The first time I met Troy was at a yacht party Nathan hosted. I couldn’t look away. He was nothing like the men I’d dated before—he was mystery. And I fell. So hard. So fast. So stupid. I begged Nathan to introduce me. I made sure we crossed paths again and again. Eventually, he agreed to marry me.
No proposal. No ring. Just a quiet, emotionless: “Marriage works for me. If you want it, I don’t mind.”
Our wedding night was a disaster. He never came to the room. He slept in his study. And every night after that was a variation of the same rejection. I tried everything. Lingerie, weekend getaways, wine, massages, midnight kisses. He wouldn’t touch me.
For two years, I’d been nothing but a ghost in this marriage. A pretty shadow that cooked his meals, smiled at galas, and went to bed cold every single night.
But tonight made everything clear. He didn’t reject me because he didn’t feel desire. He rejected me because his desire had nothing to do with me.
That night, I didn’t sleep. I just lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting for this nightmare of a marriage to be over.