His Fake Wedding, My Real Love

When my friend moved abroad and asked me to look after their flat, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for Catalina to have a place of her own.

I never expected her to burst into tears the moment I brought it up.

She clung to my arm, sobbing as though I had wronged her.

"Seraphina, please don't make me leave. Please don't kick me out..."

I was still trying to calm her down when Niccolo walked through the door.

The moment he saw Catalina crying, his expression darkened.

Without hesitation, he stepped between us, shielding her behind him as though I were some kind of threat.

"Seraphina, where's your compassion?" he demanded coldly. "How could you bully Catalina behind my back?"

Then he turned toward her, his voice instantly softening.

"Don't worry, Catalina. This is my house. No one has the right to make you leave."

I took a slow breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"That's not what happened. I just think it's inconvenient for Catalina to keep living with us. My friend's flat is nearby, and she'd probably be more comfortable having her own space."

But Niccolo wasn't listening.

Instead, he looked at me as though I were the unreasonable one.

"Catalina is trying to build a life for herself in Edinburgh," he said. "She's still learning how everything works. She doesn't know the area, doesn't know who she can trust. Half the time she gets lost just trying to find her way around the offices."

He shook his head.

"How am I supposed to feel comfortable letting her live alone?"

Then his gaze narrowed.

A trace of suspicion appeared in his eyes.

"Or are you jealous of her?"

His voice carried a hint of mockery.

"Afraid she'll take me away from you?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard.

This was the same man who had once promised that I would be the only woman he would ever love.

Yet now, standing in front of me, he felt like a complete stranger.

A stranger I no longer understood.

A stranger I was suddenly afraid to face.

From that day on, our relationship descended into a cold war.

I slept in the bedroom.

He moved into the study.

In the past, our arguments never lasted more than a few hours.

Niccolo had always been the first to give in.

He would knock on my door, rub the back of his neck awkwardly, and apologize until I forgave him.

But this time was different.

The silence stretched on for two full weeks.

Then one morning, I opened my bedroom door and saw Niccolo walking out of Catalina's room.

My heart skipped a beat.

Noticing my expression, he explained casually,

"Catalina had a fever last night. I didn't want to wake you, so I stayed in her room to look after her."

His tone was so natural that it sounded as though nothing was wrong.

But from that moment on, I began noticing all the little changes I had previously ignored.

Whenever Catalina needed help, she no longer came to me.

She went directly to Niccolo.

Even for something as trivial as needing tampons, she would call him and ask him to stop by the store.

And every single time, he went.

Without complaint.

Without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Niccolo grew increasingly distant from me.

He rarely spoke to me anymore.

Whenever he was home, his attention revolved entirely around Catalina.

Little by little, the flat that had once belonged to the two of us no longer felt like home.

Every day it seemed to shrink around me.

And I became little more than a ghost wandering through it.

Last weekend, neither of them came home.

When I finally managed to reach Niccolo by phone, he told me Catalina's mother had fallen seriously ill.

After work, he had immediately driven with her to the countryside.

For two entire days, they ignored my messages.

They didn't answer my calls.

Didn't send a single explanation.

Two days of complete silence.

For people living in our world, silence was never accidental.

It was always a choice.

On the third day, they finally returned.

When I opened the front door, I froze.

Catalina was wrapped tightly in Niccolo's arms.

Her face was buried against his chest as she cried.

"Niccolo... my heart belongs to you. I can't lose you..."

His hand moved gently through her hair.

His voice was impossibly tender.

"Don't worry."

"I won't let you marry someone else."

"I'll marry you myself."

The world seemed to stop.

Only after they pulled apart did they finally notice me standing there.

No one spoke.

The radiator clicked softly behind the wall.

The flat fell into complete silence.

A moment later, Niccolo pulled me into the narrow hallway.

The light there was dim.

The walls felt suffocatingly close.

His face carried obvious frustration.

"Catalina's mother is critically ill," he explained. "She doesn't have much time left."

"Her greatest wish is to see Catalina married."

He sighed heavily.

"To fulfill that wish, Catalina was prepared to marry some random man."

His hand rose to the back of his neck, lingering there.

"I can't just stand by and watch that happen."

"And besides, everyone in her hometown already thinks I'm her man."

"If I don't marry her, her reputation will be ruined."

Every word felt like a knife twisting inside my chest.

Tears spilled down my face.

"What about me?" I whispered.

Niccolo frowned.

His hand dropped.

His jaw tightened.

And in that instant, the boy who used to apologize to me disappeared completely.

"Seraphina," he said coldly, "you're being selfish."

"Right now, Catalina needs me more than you do."

His voice remained calm.

Reasonable.

Almost gentle.

Which somehow made it hurt even more.

"I'm not abandoning you."

"I'm just giving Catalina a wedding."

A bitter laugh escaped me.

He betrayed me.

He hurt me.

And somehow, in his version of the story, I was the selfish one.

Had he forgotten why he rushed to propose to me earlier this year?

My grandmother had been nearing the end of her life.

Her greatest wish was to see me walk down the aisle before she passed away.

Back then, Niccolo had knelt before me in front of my grandmother and my entire family.

He had promised her that he would cherish me for the rest of his life.

In our world, a promise made before the dying was more than words.

It was an oath.

And an oath was never meant to be broken and forgotten.