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 4
When rescuers finally reached us, I was barely conscious.
Someone carried me through the snow.
I remember opening my eyes once and seeing Chase’s face above mine.
I thought I was hallucinating.
When I woke in a hospital, he was sitting beside the bed.
He looked terrible.
His eyes were bloodshot. His clothes were wrinkled. Stubble covered his jaw.
He saw me wake.
Then he stood, pulled me against him, and started crying.
Chase Sterling did not cry.
Not when he lost championships.
Not when his career nearly ended.
Not even when our parents forced him to marry the girl next door.
But now his whole body shook.
“You idiot,” he whispered.
I held him.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You don’t get to say that yet.”
“I—”
“You disappeared. There was an earthquake. Nobody could reach you. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
I started crying too.
Then the television behind him caught my attention.
Sienna’s photograph filled the screen.
A news anchor was discussing a scandal involving a film director and an undisclosed child.
I froze.
Chase followed my gaze.
Then he understood.
“You thought that child was mine?”
“The DNA test—”
“It was fake.”
I stared at him.
He looked genuinely furious.
“I never slept with her.”
“But the report—”
“Lily, documents can be forged.”
He sat beside me.
“Sienna admitted everything once she learned you were missing. The boy’s father is a married director she was involved with years ago. She thought if she convinced you to leave me, she might still have a chance.”
My throat tightened.
“You never touched her?”
“Not since we broke up.”
“Ever?”
“Not once.”
Relief hit so hard I started laughing through tears.
Chase stared at me.
“This is not funny.”
“I know.”
“You nearly died because instead of asking me one question, you flew to another continent.”
“I know.”
He leaned closer.
“So here is the rule.”
“What rule?”
“If something happens, you talk to me first.”
“Okay.”
“If somebody hands you a DNA test, you talk to me first.”
“Okay.”
“If Sienna tells you the sky is blue, call me before looking outside.”
I laughed.
“Okay.”
“And if you ever disappear into an earthquake zone again—”
“I’ll talk to you first.”
He closed his eyes.
“Good.”
Back home, he became intolerable.
He cooked soup.
He made herbal drinks.
He monitored my sleep.
He refused to let me carry grocery bags heavier than a loaf of bread.
After three weeks, I stood on the bathroom scale and screamed.
“Chase!”
He appeared immediately.
“What?”
“I gained seven pounds.”
“You needed seven pounds.”
“I did not.”
“You almost froze to death.”
“That does not require turning me into a Thanksgiving turkey.”
He looked amused.
“You’re healthy.”
“I’m round.”
“You’re dramatic.”
I threw a towel at him.
Later that night, we sat on the couch going through old photographs.
There was Chase at eighteen, skinny and serious.
Sienna beside him, beautiful and ambitious.
Then there was me, usually behind the camera.
“Do you know what bothered me most?” I asked.
“What?”
“I thought you chose me because you needed cover.”
He was quiet.
“At first, I did.”
I appreciated that he didn’t lie.
Then he took my hand.
“But I kept choosing you long after I stopped needing cover.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s romantic.”
“I’m not finished.”
“Sorry.”
He thought for a moment.
“Maybe it was when I won my first championship and there were thousands of people screaming my name, but I only looked for you.”
I remembered that night.
He had run off the stage holding his trophy and hugged me so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
“I thought you were emotional about winning.”
“I was.”
“Then why were you crying?”
“Because you were there.”
My eyes stung.
He continued.
“Maybe it was earlier. Maybe it was when I realized every good photograph from the worst years of my life had been taken by the same person.”
I swallowed hard.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He smiled sadly.
“Because I thought you married me as a favor.”
I stared at him.
“You thought I didn’t love you?”
“You demanded fifty thousand dollars a month on our wedding night.”
“I was trying not to confess.”
“I thought you were negotiating.”
Despite everything, we both laughed.
For years, we had lived inside the same misunderstanding.
I thought he loved another woman.
He thought I wanted money and freedom.
Neither of us had been brave enough to ask.
“So,” I said, “we’re both idiots.”
“Apparently.”
“But you’re older.”
“That doesn’t make me more responsible.”
“It absolutely does.”
He kissed my forehead.
Months passed.
Sienna disappeared from public view for a while after admitting she had manipulated the DNA report. The money she owed me was returned through attorneys. I never met with her again.
I did not need revenge.
I needed distance.
Chase continued competing, though he gradually transitioned toward coaching and managing the club. I finished school and opened a small sports photography studio.
For the first time, we attended events together openly.
Not childhood friends.
Not neighbors.
Not convenient explanations.
Husband and wife.
The first time a reporter asked Chase how long we had been together, he looked at me.
I answered before he could.
“Depends what you mean by together.”
The reporter laughed.
Chase didn’t.
“We’ve been married four years.”
The reporter’s eyes widened.
“And dating?”
Chase looked thoughtful.
“Still working that out.”
I elbowed him.
Later, in the car, I asked, “Do you ever regret the way we got married?”
He shook his head.
“I regret making you feel alone afterward.”
That answer was better than perfection.
We did not suddenly become flawless people.
I still jumped to conclusions.
Chase still tried to solve emotional problems by kissing me until I forgot the argument.
Jax still called me Sister-in-Law even after the entire country knew my actual name.
And Chase still transferred fifty thousand dollars into my account every month.
Eventually, I told him to stop.
He refused.
“Why?”
“Contract.”
“What contract?”
“Our wedding agreement.”
“That was a joke.”
“Not to me.”
I crossed my arms.
“So what happens if we stay married fifty years?”
He shrugged.
“You become extremely wealthy.”
“Fine. I accept.”
He laughed.
One evening, I found him in the kitchen scrolling through an online store.
His search history included matching coffee mugs, matching slippers, matching towels, matching luggage, and matching winter coats.
I leaned over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You hate matching things.”
“I changed my mind.”
Something tightened in my chest.
Years earlier, I had thrown those paired objects away one by one because every missing item felt like another admission that I was alone.
Now Chase handed me his phone.
“Pick.”
I chose two ridiculous mugs shaped like cartoon bears.
He frowned.
“Those are terrible.”
“You said pick.”
“I was hoping you had improved.”
“No.”
He ordered them anyway.
When the package arrived, he used his mug every morning.
Sometimes love does not arrive at the right moment.
Sometimes it appears disguised as friendship, obligation, pride, or even a ridiculous marriage made under pressure.
But I learned something after nearly losing everything twice.
Love should not have to survive on guessing.
It should not depend on one person waiting quietly while the other assumes they will always remain.
People are not photographs. You cannot stand far away, focus carefully, and expect the truth to reveal itself through a lens.
Sometimes you have to step into the frame.
Sometimes you have to ask.
Sometimes you have to say the frightening thing first.
And sometimes, when your husband calls and announces he wants to break up because he lost a stupid game of truth or dare, the correct response is still:
“Weren’t we just friends anyway?”
Chase heard me tell Jax that story at dinner one night and nearly choked.
“That is not the moral.”
“It absolutely is.”
“The moral is communication.”
“The moral is never dare a married man to break up with his wife.”
Jax raised his glass.
“I learned that one.”
Chase put an arm around me.
“And you?”
I leaned against him.
“I learned not to run away.”
He kissed my temple.
“Good.”
Then I smiled.
“And I learned never to give up the fifty-thousand-dollar allowance.”
Chase stared at me.
Jax laughed so hard he spilled his drink.
And after everything we had survived—secrets, pride, old love, forged evidence, an earthquake, and two people who had spent years waiting for the other to speak first—I decided laughter was a pretty good sound for a marriage that had finally become real.
THE END.
⚠️ All characters and events are fictional. Do not imitate or apply them in real life. 😌😌😌
