The Heart I Married For

Hazel POV: I turned my back to him, a simple movement that felt like building a wall, brick by silent brick. I walked over to my suitcases, checking the tags one last time. New York (JFK) to Austin (AUS). My new life. Behind me, the silence was heavy. I could feel Alex' s confusion radiating across the room. He was used to my tears, my quiet pleas for attention, my hurt silences. This cold, detached calm was a language he didn't understand. A hollow feeling began to bloom in his chest, an unfamiliar emptiness where my constant, unwavering adoration used to be. He probably dismissed it as annoyance, a flicker of irritation at my sudden defiance. He was a man who rationalized emotions into non-existence. "You're still mad," he finally said, his voice laced with a weary sort of patience, as if dealing with a petulant child. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey, the clink of ice against glass the only sound. I turned to face him, leaning against my luggage. "Where's Bianca?" I asked, my tone light, conversational. "Shouldn't you be with her?" He took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing. He thought this was a new tactic, a sarcastic ploy for attention. "She's at home, resting. Her parents are with her." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "Look, Hazel, I know I've been... absent. The gala is next week. We'll go together. I'll buy you that necklace you were looking at." A bribe. A cheap, thoughtless attempt to smooth things over, just as he always did. In the past, I would have clung to that small offering, that crumb of attention. Now, it was just insulting. "I'm not interested in the gala, Alex," I said. "Or the necklace." His jaw tightened. "Don't be difficult. Get unpacked. We're leaving in an hour for dinner with my parents." Before I could refuse, he strode over, grabbed my arm, and pulled me toward the bedroom. His grip was like iron. "Go get changed." It wasn't a request. On the silent drive to his parents' estate, his phone rang. "It's Bianca," he said, not as an apology, but as a statement of fact. A crisis only he could solve. He pulled the car over abruptly. "Get out," he said, his eyes already distant, focused on his phone. "Take a cab. I have to go to her." He left me on the side of a dimly lit road, without a second thought, for the second time in three days. The humiliation didn't even register anymore. I simply watched his taillights disappear, then called an Uber. The next day, I received a text from one of Alex's friends, a smarmy banker named Todd. 'Party at the club tonight. Alex wants you there.' I knew Alex hadn't sent the message. But I wanted to see Bianca one last time. I wanted to see the woman who had inadvertently set me free. I went. The club was loud, thrumming with music and the chatter of the city's elite. I saw them immediately-Bianca and her circle of sycophants. Bianca saw me too, and a malicious little smile played on her lips. As I walked past her table, she deliberately stuck her foot out. I stumbled, and her friend promptly "accidentally" spilled a sticky, red cocktail all down the front of my white dress. The group erupted in laughter. Bianca looked at me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Oops," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "You're so clumsy, Hazel." I stood there, soaked and humiliated, the cold liquid seeping through the fabric. I didn't cry. I didn't even flinch. I just looked at her. "Having fun?" I asked calmly. Bianca's smile faltered for a second, thrown by my lack of reaction. Then she pulled out her phone. "Oh, you have to see this. Alex sent it to me last night." She played a video. It was Alex, in what looked like his office, talking to the camera. He was smiling, a rare, genuine smile I' d almost never seen. "For B," he said, his voice soft. "Happy early birthday. I know you've always wanted this." He held up a set of keys to a brand-new sports car, the exact model Bianca had been talking about for months. The video was intimate, personal, and clearly not meant for my eyes. "He's just so sweet, isn't he?" Bianca cooed, tucking her phone away. "He remembers every little thing about me." Todd, sitting beside her, chimed in with a laugh. "God, Higgins is whipped. You've had him wrapped around your little finger since you were kids." My gaze remained on Bianca. The video, the public humiliation-it was all just noise now. White noise before the silence. "You know," I said, my voice cutting through their laughter, "you two are perfect for each other." They all stopped and stared at me. "He's arrogant and selfish," I continued, my eyes locked on Bianca's, "and you're manipulative and cruel. It's a match made in heaven." I turned to Todd. "And you can tell Alex something for me." I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, but loud enough for the whole table to hear. "Tell him I said to go fuck himself."