The Substitute Who Stole His Heart

The morning dragged on endlessly as I painstakingly finished the herbal infusion and medicinal concoction the doctor had prescribed. Dizziness swirled through my head, making each movement a challenge, and I nearly lost my balance more than once, gripping the edge of the sleek marble counter to steady myself.

I picked up my phone to call Caleb, only to feel my chest tighten when I noticed there were no messages from him—not a single text checking in, not even a brief note about where he had gone. My stomach twisted with disappointment.

With a sigh, I pressed his number, trying to keep my voice steady. “Caleb, I’m still at the clinic,” I said, forcing calm into my tone.

There was a pause on the other end, and then he spoke, his voice faltering slightly. “I… I was planning to come back for you after I dropped Marina off, but… she wasn’t feeling well. Her stomach… started acting up.”

Wait. He took Marina home?

Before he could continue, a sharp, cheerful voice rang out in the background: “Sir, your lunch is ready! Please enjoy your meal.”

I caught the quick intake of breath from Caleb, and even as he hastily tried to cover the receiver, it was too late—I had heard enough. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the faint clink of cutlery in the background. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if realizing he had been caught in a lie.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, almost mechanically. “I can manage on my own.”

I wasn’t sure if I said it to reassure him—or perhaps to convince myself. My chest ached as I muttered the words, pretending they carried weight.

Just as I was about to end the call, his voice called out again, low and insistent. “Valencia… just head home. I’ll explain everything later.”

Explain what? Another string of carefully constructed lies? Another attempt to make me believe in a story that wasn’t true?

I ended the call without another word and arranged for a private driver to take me home. But when night fell, Caleb had still not returned.

I tried to sleep, but the distant hum of the city kept me awake. Through the window, I saw fireworks igniting the night sky, brilliant bursts of color that illuminated the skyline. Probably someone’s romantic gesture, I thought bitterly, my lips curling into a small, sour smile.

Unable to ignore the noise, I grabbed my tablet and returned to sketching bespoke wedding gowns for a client. As I worked, my finger brushed against the chat application, revealing a recent post from Marina.

It was a breathtaking image: fireworks bursting against the velvet night sky, accompanied by a caption dripping with sentiment:

"After half a lifetime away, I return. And here, the fireworks bloom—a welcome in all their glory."

I stared at the post for several long moments, heart sinking as my thoughts spiraled. Only when I tried to close the app did I realize Caleb’s account was still logged in on my tablet.

I didn’t want to see their interactions, didn’t want to be privy to their flirtations. With a sharp exhale, I logged out and set the tablet aside, refusing to let myself dwell on it.

The next morning, I arrived at the office feeling marginally more composed. The manager handed me my approved resignation letter, her expression a bittersweet mix of pride and sadness as she learned my reason for leaving: a bond marriage that would require me to relocate.

“I’m going to miss you, Valencia,” she said softly. “You’ve been one of the strongest members of my team.”

Unsure of what to say, I embraced her tightly, my voice thick with emotion as I thanked her for her years of guidance and support.

After completing the formalities, my colleagues insisted on a farewell lunch to celebrate my upcoming union. I didn’t protest, reserving a table at one of Caleb’s favorite restaurants—a place we had visited often, one of the rare spots that felt familiar and comforting.

Halfway through the meal, I excused myself to visit the restroom—and ran straight into Marina.

She greeted me with a radiant smile. “Valencia! I didn’t expect to see you here. This is actually the restaurant Caleb first took me to after our coming-of-age ceremony. We’ve been here countless times since.”

I offered her a polite, measured smile and tried to walk past, unwilling to engage in small talk.

But she stopped me, tilting her head slightly. “I noticed last time that Caleb always rinses the shrimp in water before peeling it for you. You don’t eat spicy food either, right?”

Her words froze me mid-step.

The truth was, I did enjoy spicy food. But Caleb had always rinsed the shrimp before serving it to me, insisting it was better for my health, insisting I avoid anything too hot. I had assumed it was simply his way of being thoughtful.

Now, staring at Marina, I realized the truth: the one he worried about, the one he had been catering to all this time… it wasn’t me. It had always been her.