My boyfriend called me to break up while half a dozen men were laughing in the background, and after three years of being his secret wife, I finally gave him the answer he deserved.
Chapter 3
The interview went viral.
Sienna’s words—“I came back for someone”—spread everywhere. Old photographs of her and Chase resurfaced. Fans built romantic timelines, analyzed body language, and declared them destined for each other.
Someone leaked the fact that Chase had sent drinks to the studio.
Nobody knew they had been for me.
Within hours, Sienna and Chase were trending nationwide.
I told myself it didn’t matter.
I had become good at waiting.
As a child, I waited for flowers to open so I could photograph them. I waited until playground swings were empty. I waited for Chase to notice me.
Waiting hurts less when you believe something wonderful is coming.
The problem with growing older is discovering that sometimes nothing is coming at all.
One afternoon, I sat alone on a swing behind campus.
Jax appeared wearing sunglasses.
“You need to come with me.”
“No.”
“Your husband is cheating.”
I stopped swinging.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a restaurant wearing oversized sunglasses and a scarf while Jax crouched beside me like the world’s worst private detective.
Across the room, Chase sat with Sienna.
My heart dropped.
Then Sienna spilled wine on him and leaned down to wipe his pants.
Her hand moved dangerously high.
Chase grabbed her wrist.
“Enough.”
Sienna froze.
“Say what you wanted to say.”
She smiled weakly. “Can’t we eat first?”
“No.”
He stood.
She caught his arm.
“Are you still angry about the past?”
Chase laughed.
There was nothing warm in it.
“You mean the director you swore you weren’t seeing?”
Sienna’s eyes widened.
“Or my best friend? Or the teammates you flirted with while telling me you weren’t ready to be public?”
My entire understanding of their relationship cracked apart.
Sienna began to cry.
Chase didn’t soften.
“I was nineteen when we started dating. You were ambitious, and I was stupid. My friend told me if I pretended my career was collapsing, you’d leave.”
Jax slowly lowered his water glass.
Chase continued.
“I defended you. Then I lost a few matches, and suddenly you were too busy to answer me. The moment you thought I might never become successful, you disappeared.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What wasn’t fair was learning you released those photographs yourself once my name became valuable.”
He stood.
“And return Lily’s money.”
I nearly fell out of my chair.
Sienna stiffened.
“What money?”
“The eight hundred thousand dollars she loaned you years ago.”
My vision blurred.
When I was nineteen, Sienna had told me Chase desperately needed money for training and equipment. I had emptied an account containing nearly everything I’d earned from photography since childhood.
Chase had received less than a quarter of it.
I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.
Both of them turned.
Chase stared at my sunglasses.
Then he said, “Lily.”
I pulled them off.
“How did you know?”
He looked insulted.
“I’d recognize you in a snowstorm.”
That evening, he drove us home, found our marriage certificate, laid it on the table, and photographed it beside our hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Ending this.”
“Chase, people will forget.”
“I won’t.”
He posted one sentence.
Married. Stop speculating.
Then he attached the certificate and an old interview clip from the day he had told reporters he had chased me for years.
The internet exploded again.
But this time, I did not feel hidden.
I felt chosen.
Afterward, we began living together properly.
We cooked badly. We argued over laundry. I tried gaming with him and discovered that marriage does not transfer professional talent.
One night, while we were lying on the couch, he said, “Stop being so good to me.”
I turned.
“What?”
He pulled me closer.
“I owe you too much.”
“You don’t owe me love.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you owe me?”
He looked at me for a long time.
“Time.”
That answer stayed with me.
Then Sienna contacted me.
She said she wanted to repay the money.
I agreed to meet.
When I arrived, she wasn’t there.
A little boy, perhaps five years old, stood near the entrance.
“Are you lost?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“My mom said we came to find my dad.”
Then Sienna appeared.
The boy ran to her.
She handed me an envelope.
Inside was a DNA report.
Probability of paternity: 99.9%.
The name listed as the alleged father was Chase Sterling.
The world tilted.
Sienna’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t want to tell you.”
I could hardly breathe.
Instead of confronting Chase, I did what frightened people often do.
I ran.
My professor had mentioned an overseas photography expedition documenting the aurora and winter wildlife. I joined with almost no notice.
For the first time in years, I left without telling Chase where I was going.
Standing beneath the northern lights, I realized running had not made me love him less.
Then an earthquake hit the region.
Roads collapsed. Communications failed. Our group became trapped for days in freezing conditions.
Supplies dwindled.
People began writing goodbye letters.
I sat with a pen in my hand for an hour.
I could not write one to Chase.
Instead, I walked into the snow.
With shaking fingers, I wrote his name.
CHASE STERLING.
Below it, I added:
LILY LOVES YOU.
I stared at the words until snow began covering them.
Then I whispered, “If I die, forget me.”
It was the biggest lie I had ever told.
