CHAPTER 1
I FIRST met Yael when I was ten, and she was twelve. She grew up in Canada, and whenever her family visited, she often came along.
She looked like an angel—that was the first thing I noticed about her. Her bambi eyes were soft and gentle, nose perfectly shaped, and lips irresistibly kissable. Her porcelain-like skin was flawless, and she was tall. But it wasn’t just her beauty that impressed me, she is smart and excels in her studies.
“Yael!” I shouted as soon as they got out of the car. She smiled and waved at me. I ran forward and threw my arms around her.
I could hear my parents laughing behind me. “Our princess missed you, Yael,” my mother said.
Yael chuckled as she caressed my head. “I brought you a gift from our trip.”
“Really?” I asked, eyes wide.
She nodded, smiling.“Yes! Come, let’s play.”
We went inside ahead of the adults, leaving them talking in the living room. I wrapped my arms around Yael, and she didn’t mind at all. She was sixteen, and I was fourteen that time, but she still visited often to play with me.
Yael had an older sister she didn’t get along with. I, on the other hand, was an only child. Somehow, we both found in each other the sibling we had been missing.
“Here, I knew you’d like this, so I brought it for you,” she said, handing me a big brown paper bag. Excitedly, I opened it to find a fluffy Sanrio Sugar Bunny Aomimiusa plush toy inside.
“You got this for me?” I asked, hugging the plush tightly.
She smiled and ruffled my hair. “Of course. I thought of you when I saw it—you look just like it.”
Her smile reached her eyes. I watched her, feeling my chest race for the first time that day. It lasted long enough for me to admit—just to myself—that she wasn’t merely a sister to me, but something more. Feelings of infatuation were quietly growing, though I didn’t dare tell her.
Then she turned eighteen, while I was sixteen. She was a senior in our school, and I was finishing my last year of junior high. She had become famous on campus, with tons of admirers and even her own fan clubs, thanks to her talent in the school band major.
I was a member of one of those fan clubs. I followed her to every parade and event, always mesmerized. She looked stunning holding the baton, swinging it through the air with effortless grace.
“Here’s Miss Cutesy,” Rosel teased, smirking. “Hi, Johanna,” she waved. I smiled back, waving at her. Rosel was Yael’s friend, sitting on the bench with Georgina as they watched Yael practice.
“All of this for Yael?” Georgina asked, eyeing the paper bag I was holding.
“Can I have some?” Rosel chimed in, already reaching for the bag to peek inside.
“It’s alot, this will make Yael gain weight,” Rosel joked, trying to grab some.“I”ll have this one box”
But a hand quickly swooped in and took the bag from her hands.
“This is for me,” Yael said firmly. “You didn’t work this hard practicing just to beg for food.”
“How stingy,” Georgina muttered, settling beside Rosel.
I couldn’t help but laugh when Rosel pouted like a duck. Glancing at Yael, she was sweaty, her shirt damp from practice, yet somehow she didn’t look disheveledat all. If anything, she looked even more radiant, and she still smelled amazing.
She smiled at me.“Never missing my practices, huh?”
I tried to hide the heat rising in my cheeks, my chest fluttering as I watched her eyes light up at the food inside the brown paper bag.
“Oh my God, is this sushi from that shop?” she asked in disbelief, leaning over to peek inside.
I smiled and nodded.
“You were talking about it all day yesterday, so I dropped by to get you two boxes,” I explained. “You have practice all day, so I thought I’d bring you some food. That way you don’t have to buy anything.”
I felt like one of the luckiest in our fan club, just being this close to her and actually talking to her.
“You’re really the best,” she said, smiling widely—then my heart nearly stopped when she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Thank you.”
My chest felt like it was about to burst. That was the first time she had kissed me—just a quick kiss on the cheek—and yet it made my heart race like crazy. I spent the rest of the day smiling, even in my sleep, feeling happy in a way I never had before.
I WOKE up feeling my head heavy, struggling to adjust my eyes to the light streaming through the curtains. I rubbed my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I had fallen asleep after crying myself out last night, and I had no idea where Yael was—maybe in her office again.
She always slept there whenever we fought.
Her words from last night still lingered in my mind. I had heard so many hurtful things from her, and no matter how many times I told myself to get used to it, I couldn’t help but feel the sting every time.
I glanced at the clock. It was already six o’clock. I got up, knowing I had to prepare her clothes. I was thinking of just reheating the tuna pasta from last night for her breakfast.
I was arranging her clothes when the door swung open. I immediately looked up.
“Good morning, Yael,” I said, greeting her first. “I prepared your clothes”
She held her head before lifting her gaze, frowning at me again.
“Just leave it there and get me my coffee,” she said, brushing past me and heading to the bathroom.
I had gotten used to this, as if nothing had happened. Several times, we had been intimate when she was drunk. For her, it was just a way to blow off steam after a long, tiring day at work—plain sex, a marital duty between us. But for me, it was more than that.
It was making love.
I went downstairs immediately to brew her coffee and reheat the tuna pasta. My movements felt lighter now that my head didn’t ache anymore. I hummed softly while preparing her sandwich, just as she entered the kitchen.
I quickly grabbed her coffee from the maker to serve it at the table and also brought the tuna pasta along. I quietly waited as she took her first bite. I was about to return to finish her sandwich when she spoke.
“Don’t wait for me tonight.”
I froze in place, thinking she was upset again or criticizing what I had made.
“Are you going somewhere?” A slight nervousness washed over me when I remembered what she told me last night. But I shook the thought away—she would never do such a thing.
She set down her spoon and sipped her coffee without looking at me.
“I have a lot of work to finish,” she replied simply, then stood up. I hurried to finish wrapping her sandwich and approached her.
She clicked her tongue, furrowing her eyebrows. “I’m tired of sandwiches. And...” she stared at me for a second. “The tuna pasta is too bland. It tastes awful.”
My shoulders slumped as I watched her back walk away. I looked down on the sandwich in my hand and the half eaten pasta on her plate. A tear was threatening to fall again that I looked up in the ceiling to prevent it from falling.
“You need to get used to this. You wanted this,” I told myself over and over.
I married her because I loved her. It was my fault, too, if she treated me this way—but was it so wrong to hope that one day she would love me the way I loved her?
I wiped my eyes. It was just another morning.
I packed the leftover tuna pasta to take to the office before heading upstairs to get ready for work. Freya was already in the office when I arrived.
She immediately smiled when she saw me, her eyebrows rising and falling in amusement, while I furrowed mine.
“Looks like you’re feeling better,” she started. “Did someone dig their fingers inside you again last night?”
“What are you talking about?”
She shook her head, smirking, and pointed at my jawline. “Your love bites said good morning to me.”
My eyes went wide. I quickly grabbed the mirror on the desk to check if what she said was true. My cheeks immediately turned red as I saw the marks. I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering how Yael had sucked on me on that part last night.
Freya laughed behind me. “Wow, you really made dessert out of yourself last night, huh?”
“It’s not like that,” I sighed, handing her the paper bag. “Here—take this and shut that mouth of yours.”
I hadn’t noticed earlier how boldly the marks were visible. Maybe because I didn’t wear makeup this morning, I hadn’t realized. If Freya hadn’t pointed it out, I probably would’ve had to face our client with a love bite on my face.
Freya grinned as she took the bag from me. I sat down in my swivel chair and grabbed some foundation to cover the reddened marks.
“So... are you okay now?” Freya asked, opening the container of pasta.
“She’s still mad at me,” I sighed, pausing mid-application of the foundation. “Freya... did I do something wrong?”
“Wrong?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a bite of pasta. She set the Tupperware down on the table. “What’s wrong with marrying her? You didn’t do anything wrong by marrying her. The only mistake was that you didn’t give her enough of time.”
Yael was the happiest I had ever seen her when she married my cousin, and the saddest when Lucas died. She could barely be reached after his death, and she nearly drowned herself in alcohol. I witnessed it all, because I was there when she forgot that she had a life to live too.
Six months later, she was still the same. Their company was on the verge of bankruptcy—my uncle and aunt had pulled out their shares because they had to return to Australia, especially since Lucas, their only other hope, was gone. Yael was her father’s only hope now too; she was the only one capable of managing the company. But her grief consumed her so completely that she couldn’t function in her duties.
That’s where I stepped in. Even though I worked at my boutique, I had a large share in our family’s company, managed by my father. When I gave them my shares to save the company, I also took the opportunity to ask for Yael. Not because I wanted her for myself, not because of long-held desire, but because I wanted to take care of her—she could no longer take care of herself. I wanted to bring back the Yael I had known.
But it seemed what I did only made things worse.
A knock pulled me out of my reverie. Freya was the one who opened the door—it was one of our staff.
“Ma’am, someone’s looking for you. Her name is Vein Chantel Parisi.”
My heart skipped a beat at the name. Behind the employee came a woman I hadn’t seen in years—Vein. She was my senior back in college, the one who taught me how to design clothes.
“Hey, princess.”
I immediately stood up to hugged her. She hugged me back just as tightly before we pulled apart.
“When did you get home?”
“Just now.” There was something soft in her eyes as she looked at me. “You look different.”
“I should be the one telling you that,” I smiled. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful.”
She chuckled, but her laughter stopped when Freya cleared her throat from the side.
“I guess I look I am ghost here since you only saw Johanna, Vein,” Freya sulked.
“Aww, come here, you baby,” she cooed, immediately hugging Freya as well.
Vein Chantel Parisi had been our senior in college when Freya and I studied fashion design. She guided us through those early days when we were still fumbling and learning. Now, she was based in Milan, running her own fashion agency called′ Vesta Atelier’. One of the biggest fashion agency that hosted grand fashion weeks. From time to time, she would visit us to showcase designs and prepare for fashion week. Years had passed since we last met because she was always hopping between countries for shows.
We had been close since college—she was the kind of friend who made everything fun. In many ways, she was like Freya, only three years older than us.
“So, how’s life lately?” she asked, sitting down and noticing the container of tuna pasta on the table. “Did you cook this?”
“Oh Vein, taste the flavor of a married woman’s dish—it’s so good,” Freya said, playful as always.
Vein’s eyes scanned me, as if inspecting every detail. I felt a little shy when her gaze paused at my jawline, so I quickly covered it with my hair.
“You’re so exaggerated, Freya,” I whispered, ignoring Vein’s stare as I settled into my swivel chair.
Vein just chuckled, picked up her fork, twirled some pasta, and took a bite. I watched her chew, and when she murmured, “This is so good,” a small warmth spread through my chest.
She smiled at me and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you can cook”
“I started learning how” If not because of Yael being a picky eater, I wouldn’t explore the world of cooking.
It felt like something gently brushed my heart at her comment. I couldn’t help but smile back. She took another bite, savoring it, and I couldn’t help but watch. Yael never ate like this, so it felt strangely comforting. I sighed quietly.
“By the way, Vein, why did you come home?” Freya asked, stealing her fork again.
I handed Vein my tumbler so she could drink some water. She paused to look at it, then took it and sipped, tucking her hair.
“Thank you,” she mouthed to me, then turned to Freya, whose mouth was full of pasta.
“I was actually going to have a fashion show here,” she added.
“Really?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
She nodded. “And you two are invited.” She looked at me, her eyes sparkling. “Not just invited, but will be one of my models”
We couldn’t hide our excitement and practically squealed when Vein told us we were going to be one of her models. We were already imagining walks, poses, and all the little moves we’d do on the runway. Vesta fashion shows were on a whole other level—like walking among the clouds when you were on their stage. That’s just how it was in the fashion world.
VEIN STAYED all day at the boutique, going through some of my designs for my summer collection while helping clients pick outfits that suited them. By evening, she invited Freya and me to go out for dinner.
We were walking toward the parking lot when Freya’s phone rang.
“Mom?” she answered. “What? But... you left the gate open again—oh, fine, I’m coming home now.”
She ended the call and looked at us, clearly annoyed.
“What happened?” Vein asked as she opened the driver’s seat.
“Well... Porshe got out of the gate, and Mom can’t find him. You know that dog only shows himself to me,” Freya sighed. “I need to go home.”
“Then maybe next time?” Vein offered gently.
Freya nodded, though it was obvious she didn’t want to. “You two go ahead, Johanna. I’ll head home first.”
She hugged Vein and me before leaving. Once she was gone, Vein turned to me, a playful curve on her lips.
“So... looks like it’s just the two of us on a date now.”
I smiled faintly. “I guess”
I walked around the car toward the passenger side while she followed behind me. I was about to open the door when our hands brushed against each other on the handle.
I quickly pulled mine away and slipped inside without looking back, refusing to see her reaction.
I noticed it and I felt it. But I didn’t want to give it meaning. I was married. I have a wife.
“So, where do you want to eat?” she asked once we were already on the road.
Immediately, a memory surfaced—of a restaurant Yael and I used to visit before everything went wrong, before anger lived between us. It had been a long time since I’d gone there. The food was good, and I missed it... I missed us.
“I know a place,” I said. “But you might not like it.”
“I’m fine with anything.” she replied with a smile, glancing at me before focusing back on the road.
I gave her the directions.
The place was called Heaven’s Palate. A friend of Yael owned it, which was why we ate there so often. The interior was designed with warm wood tones that dominated the space, from the tables and chairs to the subtle paneling along the walls and ceiling. The furniture was minimalist yet comfortable, with softly curved chairs upholstered in neutral shades that invited relaxed dining.
But what I loved most about the place were the floor-to-ceiling glass windows lining one side of the restaurant. They allowed abundant natural light to filter in, creating a seamless connection with the lush greenery outside. Plants were thoughtfully placed throughout the space, softening the clean architectural lines and adding a tranquil, organic feel.
“Table for two, please,” I told the Maître d’.
We were led to an empty table near a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glowing city skyline. Vein looked around, clearly taking everything in. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious. She was used to fancy, high-end restaurants in Milan.
“Do you not like the place?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “It’s actually cozy,” she said with a smile, taking the menu I handed her.
I watched her as she read.
Vein was beautiful—her mixed Italian features giving her an effortless elegance. Her light brown hair rested just above her shoulders, slightly wavy at the ends. Her body was curvy in a way that complemented her height. But what stood out most were her eyes—striking blue. And when it came to fashion, there was nothing to criticize. Vein knew exactly what suited her—unsurprising, given that fashion design was both her degree and her life’s work.
Just like me, I love dressing Yael for work—choosing her clothes, matching every piece carefully, making sure she looked professionally and effortlessly beautiful,
She suddenly looked up, catching me staring. I immediately dropped my gaze to the menu.
“I think I’ll go with the chicken Alfredo,” I murmured to myself.
I could still feel her eyes on me.
“Have you decided?” I asked.
“I can’t choose,” she said softly dropping the menu on the table. “Can you order for me instead?”
I nodded. “Their chicken Alfredo pasta is good,” I recommended. “Do you eat that?”
“Anything you recommend”
Before I could respond, my attention drifted past her. And then it felt like cold water had been poured over me.
Two women had just entered the restaurant, smiling as they talked. One of them slipped an arm around the other’s waist intimately.
My chest tightened. Don’t wait for me tonight.
Her words from that morning echoed painfully in my head. What hurt more was when the woman kissed her cheek and she didn’t pull away. She even smiled.
Vein noticed the sudden change in my expression and followed my gaze.
“Isn’t that your wife?” she asked, her brows furrowing.
As if sensing someone was watching, Yael turned her head. Her smile faltered the moment she saw me. And when her eyes landed on Vein, anger flickered across her gaze.
