Chapter 5 The Promise That Wasn't Meant for Me

The penthouse was quiet. Not the kind of quiet born from peace, but from exhaustion—thick, stale silence that echoed through every polished surface and velvet curtain. The laughter and applause of the campaign launch had faded like perfume in the air. Only memories lingered now, and regret. So much regret.

Siena sat curled up on the edge of the oversized couch, wrapped in a beige knit blanket that barely held in her shivers. Her once-perfect makeup had smudged beneath her eyes. There were tear streaks on her cheeks. The woman who once set rooms alight with her presence looked... dimmed. Fragile.

Aiden stood near the doorway, hesitant. Watching her like she might break in half if he breathed wrong.

“I didn’t come back to steal you,” Siena whispered into the dim glow of the living room.

Aiden didn’t respond. He merely stepped forward and sat on the armrest beside her, hands clasped tightly between his knees.

She turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his with a watery attempt at a smile. “I just wanted to be enough again.”

Aiden let out a breath. “You were never not enough, Siena. You left. That was the only thing that changed.”

“I left because I was scared,” she said, voice cracking. “Scared I’d lose myself in your world. But I lost myself anyway—just without you.”

The admission broke something in her. She reached out and grasped his hand, as if afraid he’d slip away again. “You were my home, Aiden. Always.”

His fingers twitched in hers.

“I didn’t know Clara would be so…” She trailed off, searching for the word.

“Unshakable?” Aiden supplied softly.

Siena nodded, lips trembling. “She doesn’t even try. She just is. She’s like air. You don’t notice you’re breathing her until she’s gone.”

There was no resentment in her voice. Just quiet acceptance. Painful envy.

Aiden looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Clara is... different.”

“And yet, you married her,” Siena said, a trace of a smile curling at the edge of her mouth. “Did you ever love her?”

Aiden didn’t speak for a long time. His throat was tight. His heart uncertain.

“I loved what she gave me,” he said finally. “Peace. A sense of gravity. When you left, I was a wreck. She steadied me.”

Siena’s voice was barely a whisper. “But you didn’t choose her, did you?”

He closed his eyes.

No.

Not with his heart.

“I tried,” he said instead.

Siena swallowed a sob. “Then choose me now.”

The words landed between them like a thunderclap.

“I don’t have much left to hold on to, Aiden. But if there’s even a part of you that still believes in us... then please, don’t let me go this time.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, tears soaking into his shirt. “I don’t want to be strong anymore. Not without you.”

Aiden felt the sting of guilt rise up his spine. The scent of her perfume—soft and familiar—wrapped around him. His heart ached with the weight of shared memories, of firsts that Clara would never know.

And yet—

Why did it still feel like betrayal?

He heard his own voice before he even made the decision.

“I’ll file for divorce.”

Siena froze, then slowly lifted her head to look at him.

Aiden nodded, his voice low and raw. “If this is what you want… we’ll start over. No cameras. No campaigns. Just you and me.”

Her lips parted in shock, then slowly curled into a small, tearful smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Aiden.”

But neither of them noticed the faint sound of movement from the hall.

A soft inhale.

A shuffle.

And then—silence again.

Clara hadn’t planned to come back. She told herself it was just to collect the last of her things—a scarf, a book, a pair of earrings. Nothing sentimental. Nothing that should’ve hurt.

But it was impossible to walk through those halls and not feel the ghost of every smile, every quiet morning coffee, every shared look. Her hand still remembered how his fingers felt when they brushed hers at the breakfast table. Her lungs still breathed in his scent clinging to the walls.

She moved like a shadow, quick and silent.

Until she heard voices.

Familiar voices. Aiden’s. Siena’s.

Curiosity stopped her. But the words rooted her in place.

"I’ll file for divorce."

The words didn’t hit her like a slap. They landed like a slow punch to the stomach—deep, hollow, numbing. Clara didn’t flinch. Didn’t cry. She just... listened.

"If this is what you want… we’ll start over."

Her feet carried her backward before her heart caught up. Her breath caught halfway out of her lungs.

She left the earrings on the console table. The scarf still hung over her arm.

And then she turned.

Walked down the hallway.

Out the door.

Down the elevator.

Quiet.

Always quiet.

By the time Em arrived at the hotel Clara had checked into, the scarf had been folded neatly over the armchair, the book unopened on the bedside table. Clara sat on the window seat, staring out at the Seoul skyline.

“I got your message,” Em said, breathless. “What the hell happened?”

Clara turned to her, calm and expressionless. “It’s done.”

“Clara—”

“I heard them,” she said softly. “He said it. He’s going to divorce me.”

Em sat down beside her, hands clenching. “No. No, he’s just confused. You know how Aiden gets. He’s always trying to fix someone—”

“He’s not confused,” Clara interrupted gently. “He was holding her hand when he said it.”

Em’s chest tightened. “You confronted him?”

Clara shook her head. “No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because he didn’t lie. He never promised me forever. I think I just hoped he would… eventually fall.”

Em swallowed hard. “You didn’t deserve to be his backup plan.”

“I wasn’t,” Clara said. “I was his peace. That’s what he needed after her. But I was never his storm. And that’s what he wanted.”

The silence in the room stretched. Em reached over and took Clara’s hand.

“I could kill him,” she muttered. “Or key his car. Or spread rumors that he’s secretly afraid of kittens.”

Clara smiled faintly. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’m also a little drunk. So that helps.”

They both laughed—short, soft.

But when Clara’s laughter faded, her eyes found the skyline again.

“I didn’t want to be a firework. I wanted to be the sunrise. The one that stays. The one you can count on.”

“You were,” Em whispered.

Clara blinked away tears. “But he still chose the fire.”

Back at the penthouse, Aiden lay awake staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve felt lighter.

The promise had been made. The decision done.

Siena was resting peacefully in the guest room. She had even smiled through her tears before saying goodnight.

And yet—

He hadn’t touched the soup Clara made him before leaving.

He hadn’t moved the cardigan she left on the back of his chair.

He hadn’t deleted her contact.

Aiden unlocked his phone, thumb hovering over her name.

No messages.

No missed calls.

She hadn’t reached out. Not once.

Somehow, that hurt more than shouting ever could.

Because Clara was always the one who came back.

Always the one who stayed.

And tonight?

She was gone.

Really gone.

And he had no idea how to follow.

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