The Wife He Never Loved

Chapter 2

The bitterness of the pill still lingering on my tongue, I left the bedroom.

Taking it had become second nature over the last five years, a quiet routine I rarely questioned. But this morning, the ghost of how it all began haunted me. I remembered the first day after our wedding, waking up to find that same white pill beside my glass of water, and Xavier's cold, absolute declaration: he didn't want children-not with me.

I pushed the memory down and walked downstairs.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. I had known the date for months, holding onto it in silence. Xavier likely hadn't given it a second thought; his assistant usually managed his schedule to ensure important dates weren't missed. But I remembered. I always remembered.

By the time I finished setting the dining room, it looked immaculate. White roses stood in crystal vases, their delicate petals arranged with the exact minimalist restraint Xavier preferred. I had set two places at the table-two wine glasses, two candles, and his chair positioned precisely where he liked it.

I stepped back, a small, faint smile touching my lips. I had done this every year for five years, constantly reassuring myself that it wasn't about expecting anything in return. It was simply what a wife did.

Preparing dinner had taken the entire day, requiring painstaking care. Xavier had suffered from a delicate liver condition for years, meaning his diet was strictly restricted. I knew every ingredient he had to avoid without ever looking at a recipe-no excess oil, no rich sauces, low sodium, and carefully controlled portions. I had spent hours in the kitchen crafting his favorite dishes to meet those exact medical guidelines. The staff had offered to help, but I turned them down, as I always did. Xavier might never appreciate the effort, but I couldn't bring myself to stop caring.

By evening, everything was ready. I went upstairs and changed into a simple black dress, standing before the mirror.

Five years. I was twenty-five now. Five years ago, I had entered the Kingsley mansion as a frightened young woman forced to stand in for her sister. Now, I knew Xavier's habits better than anyone. I knew how he liked his coffee, what foods his liver could tolerate, the subtle signs when his condition flared up, the exact cadence of his footsteps, and the heavy silence that signaled his anger.

I knew everything about him. Yet, standing there, I wondered if he knew a single real thing about me.

I checked the clock: 7:30 p.m. He wasn't home yet, but I didn't worry. He was always busy.

At eight, I called him. The phone rang three times before going straight to voicemail. I lowered the receiver and waited, assuming he was caught in a late meeting. By 8:20, I tried again. Still nothing.

I glanced toward the dining table. The candles were burning low, and the food was beginning to lose its heat. No message had come through.

When nine o'clock arrived with no word, anxiety settled in my chest. Xavier was never careless about his health; usually, I would remind him to eat on time so his condition wouldn't flare up. Tonight, he hadn't even picked up.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I stared at his contact before dialing another number: Ethan Cole, his personal assistant. I rarely called him directly, but I had no choice.

The call connected after two rings. "Mrs. Kingsley?"

"Ethan..." I kept my voice as level as possible. "Is Xavier still at the office?"

A beat of hesitation. "No, Mrs. Kingsley."

My heart sank slightly. "Oh. Then where is he?"

Silence stretched over the line-too long, too heavy.

"Ethan?"

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

My brows pulled together. "Why are you apologizing?"

Another heavy pause before the blow landed. "Mr. Kingsley is at the Parker residence."

I froze, staring blankly at the white roses on the table. My parents' house. "Why?"

Ethan remained silent, making the air in the room feel instantly suffocating. "Who is he with?" I asked quietly.

"Miss Vivienne."

Everything inside me went utterly still. The name hung in the air, surreal and sharp. Vivienne. My sister.

My husband was at my parents' house, having dinner with my sister, on our fifth wedding anniversary.

"He's... having dinner there?" I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat.

"Yes."

I looked down at the dining table-the meal I had spent hours adjusting for his health, the glowing candles, the carefully placed gift beside his plate. Everything looked painfully foolish.

For five years, I had built my life around his schedule, his health, and his comfort. I had waited for him every night, worrying whenever he worked late. And tonight, when I wanted just one evening with my husband, he was with the woman he had loved before me.

"Mrs. Kingsley, I'm so sorry," Ethan's voice echoed faintly through the receiver. "I assumed you already knew-"

"I didn't," I whispered, my voice fracturing. I ended the call before he could say another word.

The quiet of the dining room became unbearable. I stared at Xavier's empty chair and the carefully prepared food he hadn't even remembered to decline. Heat pricked behind my eyes, but I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

Five years ago, Vivienne had abandoned Xavier on their wedding day, and I had stepped into her shadow. For five years, I had loved a man who had never asked for my love. Tonight, I finally accepted the truth I had spent half a decade denying: no matter how carefully or completely I loved Xavier Kingsley, I would always come second to my sister.

Slowly, I pulled out the chair across from his empty place and sat down alone. The candle flickered softly between two settings, casting long shadows across the table.

And for the first time in five years, I wished I had never made dinner at all.

The staff stepped into the dining room, their movements hesitant as they looked between the untouched feast and the flickering candles.

"Mrs. Kingsley... should we wrap the food and put it in the freezer?" one of the maids asked softly, her voice laced with cautious pity.

I paused, staring at the elaborate meal I had spent hours painstakingly crafting to protect his health.

"Throw it all in the trash," I said, my voice eerily flat.

Without waiting for their response or looking back at the empty setting across the table, I turned and walked toward the stairs, leaving the silence of the dining room behind as I made my way to my room.