Page 81 of The Substitute Fiancée

“They’re beautiful,” I tell her, touched.

“They are,” she replies, and I can hear all the love she has for her children in her voice.

“Elias, Laure, say hello to Sam,” Alexander tells them.

“Hello!” they say in unison.

Then Elias turns back to Alexander and asks, “Is Kristel not coming?”

All the adults freeze in an unbearably awkward silence. Then Alexander regains his composure and answers, “No, she won’t be coming anymore.”

“You’re not in love anymore?” Elias asks, curious.

Alexander’s jaw tightens. He shoots me a quick glance before turning back to Elias.

“It’s over between her and me.”

The blow is brutal. He didn’t answer the question. He didn’t because he didn’t want to lie. Because he still has feelings for her. My God.

What did I think? That he would stop loving her overnight? That he would declare his eternal love to me? He never promised me anything. Not once did he tell me he loved me. It’s my fault if I expect from him what he can’t give.

I force myself to keep up appearances so I don’t ruin the celebration. Thankfully, Elias quickly changes the subject.

Lunch is simple, lively, and cheerful. Everyone is attentive to my well-being. Conversations are punctuated by laughter, touching memories, amusing anecdotes—yet my heart isn’t in it.

And when it’s time to leave, I’m relieved to escape a place where I feel like I’m suffocating.

In the elevator that takes us back to the penthouse, Alexander finally voices his concern.

“Are you okay, Sam? You’ve been very quiet.”

“Yes. Just tired. Don’t worry.”

I know I’ve just lied to him, but I’m not ready to have that conversation. I’m not sure I could handle it if he admitted he still loves her.

That night, when he comes back from the shower, I pretend to be asleep. I don’t know if he’s fooled, but he doesn’t try to touch me. And with a tight chest, I eventually fall asleep.

*

I don’t turn my phone back on until the next morning. Two missed calls from my mother. No voicemail. No texts. Just those insistent silences, like so many wordless reproaches.

I don’t call back. I don’t want to hear what I already imagine: her disappointment, her veiled accusations, her way of making me understand that I’m a bad daughter. Once again.

Alexander goes back to work today. He still has an enormous amount to do before the IPO.

I settle into the guest bedroom to paint. My iPad lets me research and create mood boards—I love it, even though my enjoyment is dulled by a question looping endlessly in my mind. Does he still love her?

I try to focus on my colors, on the shapes coming to life beneath my brush, but yesterday’s image won’t leave me. Alexander facing Elias. His jaw tightening. That telling silence.

What if all this tenderness, this passion between us, is just his way of forgetting that he still loves my sister?

I shake my head, trying to chase away these toxic thoughts. I promised myself I wouldn’t become that girl—the one who doubts and begs for proof of love. I know my worth.

But knowing and feeling are two very different things.

I only stop to have lunch, then later to prepare dinner. Staying busy helps keep my mind occupied.

When Alexander gets home around seven, a wide smile spreads across his face despite the visible fatigue.