BENEATH THE SAME SKY

Eleven o’clock at night.

I sat at the head of the long, mahogany dining table, my hands folded neatly on my lap, staring at the flickering flames of the two candles I had lit hours ago. The wax had melted halfway down, forming little stalactites of white and gold, just like my patience—melting, dripping, and slowly hardening into something cold and fragile.

On the table, the food I had prepared with so much love was now cold.

The roasted chicken, which I had marinated for three hours with Gavin’s favorite herbs, was now dry and pale. The creamy mushroom soup had formed a thin, unappetizing skin on the surface. The salad was wilted, and the bottle of expensive red wine—one of the few things we had kept from happier times—stood there, unopened, gathering dust.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary.

Five years.

One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days.

I remembered the day we got married as if it were yesterday. The sun was shining so brightly, and Gavin looked at me with eyes full of stars, holding my hands and promising that he would love me until his last breath. He said I was his angel, his savior, the only woman in his world.

Back then, I believed him. I believed every single word.

I was so happy that I gave up everything. I quit my job at the design firm where I was just starting to get recognized. I left my friends, I distanced myself from my family, and I built a whole world centered entirely around this man. Gavin became my sun, my moon, and my entire universe.

I thought that if I loved him enough, if I gave him everything, he would never leave. I thought a perfect wife who cooked, cleaned, and loved him unconditionally was all he needed.

But looking at the empty chair across from me now, I realized how foolish I had been.

Love is not enough when the other person stops wanting to receive it.

Suddenly, the sound of a car engine broke the silence.

My heart leaped into my throat. My hands instinctively started smoothing down my dress—the soft, red silk dress I had bought specifically for tonight, hoping to see that familiar spark in his eyes again.

Footsteps. Heavy, dragging footsteps approaching the front door.

The doorknob turned.

"Gavin?" I called out softly, standing up quickly, ready to welcome him.

The door swung open.

Gavin walked in. He looked tired, his tie was loosened, and his hair was messy. But what caught my attention immediately was not his tiredness.

It was the smell.

A sweet, heavy, floral scent wafted into the room the moment he stepped inside. It was not my perfume. I wore something soft, something light, something that smelled like vanilla and home. This smell was strong, intoxicating, and undeniably feminine.

My smile faltered. My feet froze in place.

Gavin didn't even look at me. He threw his car keys onto the console table with a loud clatter, shrugged off his suit jacket, and tossed it carelessly onto the sofa.

"You're still awake?" he asked, his voice raspy and indifferent. He didn't sound guilty. He didn't sound apologetic. He just sounded... annoyed.

"I... I was waiting for you," I said, my voice trembling slightly, trying to keep it steady. "It's our anniversary, Gavin. Remember?"

He finally looked at me. His eyes were dark, tired, and empty. There was no love there. No warmth. Just a void that seemed to suck all the happiness out of the room.

"Right. The anniversary," he muttered, walking past me towards the bar cabinet, completely ignoring the romantic setup I had spent the whole day creating. "I told you I had work. I'm busy, Aria. Can't you understand that? I'm trying to make money for us, and you keep making a fuss about dates."

His words were like a physical blow to my chest.

Make a fuss?

I spent an entire day preparing this. I waited for him for six hours. And this is what I get?

"I'm not making a fuss," I whispered, clutching the hem of my dress tightly until my knuckles turned white. "I just wanted to have dinner with you. Just once."

"Well, I'm not hungry," he said bluntly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and downing it in one gulp. "And I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."

He turned around to leave, and that was when I saw it.

Time seemed to stop.

On the crisp, white collar of his shirt, right against the skin of his neck, there was a stain.

A bright, vivid, crimson red stain.

Lipstick.

It was shaped like a perfect kiss mark, smudged slightly as if someone had pressed their lips against him with too much passion, too much urgency.

And the color... it was a shade of red I would never dare to wear. It was bold, dangerous, and seductive.

My world tilted on its axis.

The smell of that foreign perfume suddenly became suffocating. It filled my lungs, burning my throat, making me want to gag.

He had been with someone else.

He had been kissing another woman while I was here, waiting for him like a fool.

No. No. Aria, don't jump to conclusions.

Maybe it was an accident. Maybe someone bumped into him at the office. Maybe it was just sauce or paint.

My mind was frantically trying to find excuses, trying to protect my heart from shattering into a million pieces. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him.

Because if this was true, then everything I had built for the past five years was a lie.

Gavin was already walking towards the stairs, his steps heavy and unsteady.

"Gavin," I called out again, this time my voice cracked. "Wait."

He stopped but didn't turn around. "What now?"

"Your... your collar," I pointed shakily. "There is something on your collar."

He froze for a split second. I saw his shoulders tense up. For a moment, I thought he would panic. I thought he would be scared.

But no.

He slowly turned his head to look at me, and what I saw in his eyes made my blood run cold.

It wasn't fear. It wasn't guilt.

It was irritation.

He lifted a hand, touched the stain, and then wiped it away casually with his thumb, as if it were just a piece of dust.

"It's nothing," he said flatly. "Probably got rubbed against someone at the bar. Don't make this into a big deal, Aria. I'm tired."

Rubbed against someone?

Who rubs their lips against someone's neck like that? Who leaves a kiss mark unless they are being intimate?

The lies were so obvious, so transparent, yet he had the audacity to say it to my face with such arrogance.

He thought I was stupid. He thought I was blind.

"At the bar?" I forced the words out, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "And the perfume? Why do you smell like another woman's perfume, Gavin? You said you were at work."

He sighed loudly, a sound full of exasperation and disdain. He walked closer to me, towering over me with his height, looking down at me as if I were some kind of annoying insect.

"Are you checking me now?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerous. "Are you inspecting me like I'm some kind of criminal? My God, Aria. You are becoming so paranoid and possessive. It's suffocating. No wonder I don't want to come home early."

I don't want to come home early.

Those words pierced my heart deeper than any knife could.

"I'm not paranoid," I whispered, tears finally spilling over, rolling down my cheeks hot and fast. "I'm your wife. I just... I just miss the man who promised to love me. What happened to us, Gavin? What changed?"

He looked at me, really looked at me, and the hatred I saw there was terrifying.

"What changed? You changed," he spat out. "Or maybe I just finally woke up. I realized that I'm married to a boring, quiet woman who has no life other than waiting for me. You are like a shadow, Aria. You are everywhere but you have no voice. It's depressing."

He took a step closer, invading my personal space, his breath smelling of alcohol and mint.

"Maybe if you were more like other women, more exciting, more fun... I wouldn't feel the need to stay out late," he said coldly.

Flashback:

Five years ago.

"Don't cry, my beautiful wife," Gavin had said, wiping my tears away with his thumb on our wedding day. His eyes were shining with love. "You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I will protect you. I will make you happy. I don't need anyone else but you."

Three years ago.

"I'm home!" Gavin had run inside, soaking wet from the rain, holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers. "Happy birthday, Aria! I love you so much!" He had spun me around in the living room, kissing me passionately, not caring that we were both getting wet.

One year ago.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he had whispered against my hair when he was sick. "I don't know what I would do without you. You are my angel."

Those memories were so clear, so vivid, so full of warmth.

And now, looking at the man standing in front of me... the man who was wearing the same face, the same voice, but with a heart made of stone... I couldn't help but wonder.

Was it all a lie?

Did he ever truly love me, or was I just a convenience he needed at that time?

The pain was physical. It wasn't just an emotion. It was a sensation.

I felt it in my chest, a heavy, crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. I felt it in my stomach, twisting and turning like knives. I felt it in my bones, a cold chill that seeped into my very soul.

How could someone change so much? How could love turn into hatred this fast?

"Go to sleep, Aria," Gavin said, turning his back on me once again. "We will talk tomorrow. Or better yet, don't talk at all. I have a headache."

He walked up the stairs, leaving me standing alone in the cold, empty dining room.

Left behind with the cold food, the dead candles, and a heart that was breaking apart piece by piece.

I didn't follow him. I couldn't.

If I went to bed now, if I lay next to him, I would smell that woman's scent on his skin. I would see that lipstick mark in my mind. I would remember his words.

You are boring.

You are suffocating.

I don't want to come home.

I walked slowly towards the kitchen, my legs feeling like jelly. I started clearing the table. I packed the food away, throwing it into the trash can.

Throw away the love. Throw away the effort. Throw away the hope.

It was all garbage now, just like this meal.

Then, I walked quietly to the guest bathroom, the one furthest away from our bedroom. I closed the door silently and locked it.

And then... I broke.

I slid down the door until I hit the cold tiled floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face into them.

I bit my lip hard to muffle the sound. I didn't want him to hear me. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt me.

But the pain was too much. It was overwhelming. It was a tsunami of grief that drowned me completely.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, soaking my dress, soaking my hands. I cried for the woman I used to be. I cried for the love I lost. I cried for the five years I wasted waiting for a man who never truly belonged to me.

Why, Gavin? Why did you do this?

I gave you my everything.

I loved you more than myself.

My body shook with violent sobs, but the sound was trapped inside my throat, muffled, silent screams in the dark.

My head throbbed. My heart ached with a rhythm that felt like it was going to burst.

Outside, the wind started to howl, and rain began to beat against the window panes.

It was raining outside, just like it was raining inside my heart.

I sat there on that cold bathroom floor for hours. Until my tears ran dry. Until my throat was raw. Until the pain turned into a numb, empty void inside me.

I looked up at the mirror, seeing my reflection—pale face, red swollen eyes, messy hair.

I looked like a ghost.

I was living in a beautiful, big house, a palace that everyone envied.

But it was empty.

It was cold.

And I was alone.