I was born into the noble Valerie family, gifted by blood with the rare ability to bond with vampires and bear them powerful hybrid children.

Since I was a child, I had been secretly in love with James, the vampire noble I was betrothed to.

Everyone knew his heart belonged to one person only — his childhood companion, Vicky.

But she was engaged to James's older brother.

The night of their engagement banquet, James accepted my confession.

He said we could try.

I nodded and told him I didn't mind. I was willing to wait until he let her go.

Then he gave the wedding I had designed with my own hands to Vicky.

He stood in the groom's place, holding her hand through the rehearsal.

And I stood below the stage, the laughingstock of the entire room.

That night, he got drunk.

He held me and said he loved me.

I thought he had finally laid down his obsession, so once again I forgave him and let go of my pride.

Until he called out Vicky’s name.

In that moment, I finally understood.

The one James loved would never be me.

I had stored up enough disappointment. The next day, I disappeared from his world for good.

Five years later, I ran into him by chance, a hybrid boy in my arms.

He came rushing toward me like a man gone mad, eyes red, begging me to come back.

Elena's POV

I was born the second daughter of the Valerie family.

In a family that measured everything by the value of a marriage alliance, a second daughter wasn't worthless — but wasn’t the first choice either.

Since I was a little child, my parents barely spared me a glance.

They brought me along to the social gatherings of the vampire nobility, where I was nothing more than a backdrop.

Not too dazzling or memorable.

Everything changed at the ball that year — the first time I saw James.

The second son of a noble vampire family, standing quietly beside his father and elder brother.

My parents told me he was the boy I had been promised to since the day I was born — that I should mind my manners and learn how to stand by his side.

He was still young then, but the cold, sharp lines of his features had already taken shape.

In that single moment, everything shifted. For the first time in my life, I wanted to fight for something. I wanted to be remembered.

His expression was distant. He gave me a polite, gentlemanly nod, but his gaze didn't linger on me for even a second.

I couldn't help looking up at him again. My heart was beating so fast it didn't feel real.

"Hello. I'm Elena."

In that moment, no one knew.

What rose up in my chest wasn't numbness or resistance anymore.

It was relief.

Relief that the man I'd been promised to was James — that he was someone I loved.

After that, I began moving in vampire circles more and more often, studying alongside James, living alongside him.

Before I had even come of age, I had grown used to that world's nights, used to the scrutinizing glances reserved for humans, used to standing at James's side.

He had always been quiet and almost never smiled.

But it didn't take me long to realize his silence was something he saved only for me.

All his patience, all his tenderness, all his attention — belonged to one person.

Vicky.

His childhood companion, a noble-born vampire like him.

From the moment Vicky was born, she had been at James's and his brother's side. She had been the one obsession of James’s life.

But just because he had been born two years after his brother, he had lost his place as the heir — and his chance to have Vicky as his own.

All Vicky had to do was stand there, and she had every ounce of James's attention, every shred of his favor.

I had stood beside him for years, and he had never once truly looked at me.

When I was younger, I didn't understand.

I thought I just wasn't good enough, so I threw myself into becoming better.

After I graduated from design school, I became an event planner, designing weddings and banquets for vampire aristocrats.

I bore witness to countless vows. I helped other people celebrate their grand love stories.

I came to know many powerful vampires, kept up a respectable network and a respectable career, took meticulous care of myself so that I would always look poised and beautiful.

But no matter what I did, I could never make James turn his head for me. Not once.

Every banquet we attended, I was the one on his arm. I was the one smoothing things over for him, but he was always looking at Vicky.

Even when Vicky was always his brother's dance partner.

I started to envy her.

I started praying when no one could hear — If, just once, James could look at me the way he looked at Vicky — even once — I would give anything.

That day came sooner than I expected.

At the engagement banquet for Vicky and James's brother, she wore a gown I had designed. She stood on the dais radiant, soaking in the applause and the blessings of the room.

And I sat below, watching James — his expression hollow, complicated.

"Don't be sad, James. I'll always be here for you."

I looked at him and said the words I had said a thousand times before, and got back the same hollow answer I always got.

"Mm."

He poured himself one glass of wine after another, quietly shrugging off the hand I rested on his shoulder.

I pretended not to notice. I rose from my seat with composure and went to check on the rose arrangements in the garden.

The thorns drew blood from my palm. I didn't feel a thing.

I told myself, over and over, that it was nothing. I was just about to give in to the tears when I heard familiar footsteps behind me.

Before I could turn around, someone caught me from behind.

The thick smell of wine washed over me, and a second later, James lowered his head and kissed me.

Every part of me went still. I didn't dare meet his eyes.

Even drunk out of his mind, his elegance and his bearing made him seem completely composed — and I had always been lost in him, helpless to resist.

His hand pressed against my waist. His voice was low and rough.

"Haven't you always loved me?"

My throat closed. I couldn't speak. I only heard him let out a soft laugh.

It was the first time I had ever heard him laugh because of me.

"We can try."

In that moment, I thought — finally, my love and wait had received a response.

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.

Elena's POV

Maybe it was because Vicky never gave him the reaction he was looking for that morning at breakfast — from then on James started coming around a lot more often.

At first, I felt a quiet, secret kind of happiness.

He'd send flowers to my apartment before I left for work. Or a short message saying we were attending some banquet together that evening.

Sometimes he would even drop by my studio and sit on the couch, leafing through my design sketches.

One day, he found a sketchbook on my shelf — the one with the wedding I had designed for myself. Swing. Alawn and fountain just out of view. Compared to those lavish vampire banquets, the design looked almost too simple.

I didn't want to put any pressure on him. I watched him carefully, said nothing, and quietly closed the sketchbook.

But James just stood there for a long time, silent.

"This wedding looks beautiful."

He was turned slightly to the side. The studio light cast a shadow down the line of his face.

"Thank you. It's a design I've been refining for years. James, the truth is, I've always — "

The truth is, I've always wanted to make it real with him.

I didn't finish the sentence. He turned his head just then, and we caught each other's eyes and shared a small smile.

I caught something soft in his eyes — and something faint, like anticipation.

But it didn't take long for me to realize something was wrong.

That evening, he was taking me to a dinner party hosted by another vampire family, and he sent over a dress ahead of time.

The dress had a clean cut. The color suited my skin. The waist and the neckline were finished beautifully — almost too refined to be something James had picked out himself.

He brushed his fingers along my cheek and told me I'd look better with my hair down.

I didn't think much of it. I changed into the dress, and when I came down the stairs, my steps felt lighter than usual.

I had James's arm in mine. I had just reached the foot of the staircase when I saw Vicky.

She was sitting not far away, leaning toward the man beside her in conversation, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of a wineglass, her long, wavy hair spilling down her back.

The dress she was wearing was wine-red too.

The cut, the silhouette, even the finish at the neckline — it was nearly identical to mine.

People were watching me. People were watching Vicky.

The looks they gave me were curious, with a faint trace of pity tucked underneath. Some raised their glasses to me with a smile and said Miss Elena was beautiful tonight.

Others lowered their voices as I passed and remarked, with a sigh, that it was a shame — still not quite right.

I knew what they meant.

The real tragedy wasn't the dress, but the undeniable fact that I wasn't Vicky

James heard them. He didn't say a word in my defense.

Only sometimes, when I couldn't quite hide the disappointment on my face, he'd offer me some perfunctory comment about not paying attention to those tedious people.

And I would always smile and say it was nothing.

I could endure it. I would wait for him to let go of Vicky.

By the end of the evening, something inside me had gone numb.

After that, it kept happening.

James started bringing me along to more and more events. Sometimes he would even make small, intimate gestures in front of everyone.

People started to think he was finally taking me seriously.

And sometimes, even I let myself believe it.

But every time that illusion started to take shape, some new detail would pull me back to reality.

The dresses he picked were always the kinds Vicky liked. The places he took me were places he had already been to with Vicky.

When he looked at me, he was looking at someone else.

Bit by bit, I couldn't keep lying to myself.

He just needed an outlet. Somewhere to breathe through what he had lost.

And I just happened to be there. Always.