I Was His Substitute, Until I Disappeared With His Child

Elena's POV

When I woke up, it wasn't fully light yet. A thin sliver of cold white light came through the gap in the curtains. The room was unnaturally quiet.

I was slumped against the couch, still in last night's gown, exhausted to the point that I could barely move. My head felt thick and dull, and my temples were throbbing — only then did it sink in that I'd gone days without proper sleep, working to put Vicky's engagement banquet together.

James stirred on the bed, and I was wide awake in an instant.

The moment James opened his eyes, his gaze was cold as a blade — instinctively wary, on guard. His eyes swept the room before landing on me, and only then did his expression falter, though the wariness didn't fully leave him.

His eyes searched mine — checking something, maybe, or trying to sidestep whatever had happened the night before.

I slowly straightened up. My voice was a little hoarse. "You're awake."

He didn't answer. He just stared at me for a few seconds, then looked away and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

Watching him like this, I nearly wanted to laugh.

But the laugh caught in my throat and wouldn't come out.

"You drank too much last night," I said, keeping my voice as level as I could. "I was a little worried, so I stayed to look after you."

He couldn't get the words out. He only made a soft sound of acknowledgment.

The air went still for a moment.

His eyes flicked up to my lower lip, where he'd bitten me. Something hesitant passed over his face.

"Your mouth — should I have a doctor come look at it?"

The scene from yesterday flashed through my mind — the way he'd held me, the way he'd sucked on my lip — and a flush of heat ran through me.

But looking at him, after all these years together, still as polite and distant as a stranger, the heat in my chest cooled again.

"It's fine."

I smiled and shook my head at him, lowering my eyes to hide the disappointment in them.

It felt awkward staying there. I wanted to leave, to give him his space, but he stopped me before I could go.

"Stay and have breakfast before you go."

His words made me freeze.

I had already stood up, ready to leave, and now I couldn't move.

That little hope I had just buried back down was rising again.

I knew it. He hadn't just been talking last night. He really did want to try to love me.

"All right," I said, nodding.

I followed him into the dining room with quiet steps.

The servants had already laid out breakfast. The silverware was set neatly, and the air carried the faint smell of coffee.

I had barely sat down when I saw who was across from me.

Vicky was already there.

She was sitting next to James's older brother, idly turning the engagement ring on her finger, the picture of grace and ease.

"Elena? I didn't expect to see you here."

Her blood-red eyes flicked between me and James in a heartbeat.

Her gaze on me carried a note of hostility and disdain, but the moment she leaned back into her fiancé, that elegant, gentle look was right back in place.

"I was very pleased with last night's banquet. I haven't even thanked you yet."

My fingertips tightened. I could feel James stealing glances at Vicky, wearing a polite smile.

That little flicker of hope I shouldn't have had was gone again, just like that.

James acted as if he hadn't noticed a thing. He pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down.

He sat closer than he ever had — his shoulder pressed against mine.

I could feel the cold radiating off his skin.

And just like that, my suspicion was confirmed. I understood why James had insisted I stay for breakfast.

Across the table sat the freshly engaged couple, in love.

Vicky and Joey were murmuring to each other, exchanging the occasional happy smile.

On our side, James was looking at her and Joey, and his eyes were full of something that wouldn't stay down.

I kept my head down and ate, doing my best to look calm.

The hand resting on my skirt clenched into a fist. Tears were already gathering in my eyes.

James spoke up suddenly. "You've worked hard these past few days. Eat more."

He pushed the plate in front of me a little closer to me as he said it.

Before I could even react, he had reached up and wiped a smudge of sauce from the corner of my lip.

The gesture was natural. Intimate.

I went stiff for a beat and couldn't help glancing across the table.

Vicky hadn't noticed any of it.

She sat next to her fiancé, completely unbothered. Not a trace of jealousy neither a hint of resentment.

I slowly looked away with my chest felt tight.

"Thank you."

I knew. James had been watching for Vicky's reaction the whole time.

He was only treating me like this to make Vicky jealous.

After all these years at his side, I could read his mood without even trying.

James's hand paused for a second. Then he pulled it back.

He didn't say anything, but the air between us got colder.

The next moment, he pulled the ring off his little finger.

Before I knew what was happening, he had taken hold of my hand.

"We haven't had our engagement banquet yet, but take this for now."

His tone was flat. The timing was abrupt and obvious — anyone could see why he was doing it. But he knew, of all people, that I couldn't refuse him.

I instinctively tried to pull my hand back. He held it in place.

The ring was clearly the wrong size. He forced it on anyway.

The metal edge bit into my skin, and a sharp ache shot through my fingertip.

He stroked the back of my hand lightly, as if he couldn't quite grasp how easily a human body could feel pain.

James was still looking in Vicky's direction. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

I was used to enduring, used to being good. So I only paled a little, and the smile I always wore barely faded at all.

I could feel the looks coming from across the table — pity, sympathy, both.

I should have been used to being looked down on by then. But in that moment, all I wanted was to run.

Breakfast ended quickly.

When Vicky stood up, James's eyes immediately went to her.

She just took her fiancé's arm and walked away without looking back.

After they were gone, the dining room went quiet.

James sat there, hurled the dinner knife away, and the air around him dropped several degrees.

I patted his shoulder, wanting to say something soft, something comforting. He stood up impatiently and left.

Looking down at my own swollen, reddened finger, I just stood there, frozen for a moment. For the first time, I didn't go after him.

I started to wonder if I was the only one holding on too tight.

It seemed James would never love me.