Chapter 4

I didn't sleep that night. I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment, every lie. The System had warned me that Mark was a 'relapse risk,' but I had been arrogant. I thought my love, my dedication, could permanently fix his broken parts.

Emily Carter's return was the spark. I knew it. Mark was drawn to her in a way he never was to me. She was his past, his chaos, his 'wilder' side. With her, he wasn't the man I had saved; he was the man he used to be.

I had thought her power over him was gone. After she left him all those years ago, marrying some rich old man and moving to Europe, he had been a wreck. That's when I had stepped in.

I remembered the day we first met her, before the car crash, before everything. We were at a corporate event. Mark was on a self-destructive spiral, and I was the junior executive assigned to keep him in line. Then Emily walked in. She was vibrant, charming, with a laugh that filled the room. Mark's eyes had locked onto her, and in that moment, I ceased to exist for him.

He pursued her relentlessly. He was obsessed. But I was the one who was there when his risky ventures collapsed. I was the one who pulled him from the literal and figurative wreckage of his life. Even as I held his hand in the hospital, his first dazed words had been her name.

My efforts meant nothing compared to the memory of a woman who had abandoned him. He spent months chasing her, even after I had stabilized his company and his life.

Then, one day, she was gone. She sent him a postcard from Paris announcing her marriage. That was it. He was devastated. And in his devastation, he finally turned to me. He saw me, truly saw me, for the first time.

He proposed a month later. I thought it was a happy ending. I thought he had finally chosen stability. He had chosen me.

Now I understood. I wasn't his choice; I was his default setting. I was the safe harbor he returned to when the seas got too rough. And I, the fool, had accepted the role. I had traded my own life, my own ambitions, for the title of Mrs. Mark Johnson and a beautiful, empty house.

It was my own fault. I had accepted the mission. I had done the work. I had fixed the man. But I had never truly won his heart.

A bitter wave of self-recrimination washed over me. The pain was sharp, but beneath it, a cold, hard clarity began to form. I had been a fool, but I didn't have to remain one.