I'd been married to my vampire husband for three years, and he had always cherished me like a treasure.

He held me close every night before I went to sleep. He never let go of my hand when we went out. He worried, always, that I might get hurt.

A common cold was enough to make him cancel everything and stay up all night beside me.

James told me no one in the world mattered more to him than I did.

Everyone said he loved me to pieces.

I believed it too.

Until the day of the ceremony — the night he was supposed to turn me into a vampire.

A woman who should have been dead walked back into his life.

She had my face, tear-streaked, calling his name in a small voice.

That was when I understood. I'd only ever been the stand-in for the woman he couldn't let go of.

My stubbornness, my refusal to give up — all of it broke under the disappointment that kept piling up.

So I gave up on him for good. I decided to keep our child to myself, and disappear from his world without a word.

But later, he came back. Down on his knees, again and again, begging me to come home.

Elena's POV

It hit me only then, far too late.

Why James had looked at me with such heavy sorrow the very first time we met.

Out in the hall, the woman with tear-bright eyes stood in her torn dress, gazing at my husband like he was the only thing in the world to her.

And I, with the cuts on my wrist still open from the turning ritual, had to keep my head clear through the pain.

I saw it with my own eyes.

That woman had my face.

A minute ago, he had been frowning over the cuts on my wrist. Now he wasn't even looking at them.

"Vicky… is it you? It's really you. You're alive—"

James, who never lost his composure, had a catch in his voice.

I looked at her. I looked at him. Cold went through me from scalp to feet, and the pain in my wrist went numb.

"I came back… do you still want me?"

Vicky had seen my face too. She asked the question carefully, like a child afraid of the answer.

"James…"

I reached for his hand on instinct, the way I always did when I needed to feel safe.

It was happening too fast. I couldn't take it in.

Anger, fear, panic — all of it surged up at once.

I didn't know what to do. I just knew I didn't want him to leave my side.

There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

Then his gaze went straight back to her.

I could see his eyes turning red. His whole body was shaking.

He let go of my hand. He took two steps forward and gripped her shoulders.

I'd only seen him this overcome once before. The night I said yes to his proposal.

"You're alive… why didn't you come back to me? Where have you been for ten years?"

His voice was so low it shook.

Vicky's tears spilled over. She clutched at the front of his coat like she'd drown if she let go.

"I wanted to come back. I only just woke up." Her voice broke. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She raised her face. This close, I could see the red glow in her irises.

She'd been turned. She was a vampire now.

She told us how she'd fallen into the sea ten years ago, washed ashore unconscious, how a vampire had saved her — turned her. She'd been on the brink of death so long that the turning and the awakening had taken longer than usual.

In that moment, I saw what was still in James's eyes.

Shock, heartbreak, the relief of someone given back what he thought he'd lost forever.

Everything except the way he used to look at me.

I stood there frozen while they held each other, two people who'd waited a decade for this. I was the outsider, standing in my own home.

Three years of marriage — every bit of it had been a lie.

I had only ever been a stand-in.

The blood from my wrist dripped onto the floor. The sound was almost too soft to hear.

James caught the smell of it. His body went still for a second.

He pulled away from her, awkwardly, his eyes dropping from her face. He came over to me in two steps.

"Sorry — Elena, let me bandage that for you."

He took my wrist in his hands, still careful with me, still gentle.

I looked at the strain on his face, and reached up out of habit to smooth the line between his brows.

This time, he flinched away from my touch.

Vicky stayed behind him the whole time, crying just loudly enough to be heard, sneaking glances at my face.

It was the first time in my life I'd ever hated my own face. My voice came out hoarse.

"The turning ceremony — are we still going through with it?"

James opened his mouth. He glanced back at Vicky. In the end, he said nothing.

I let out a small laugh. My eyes stung.

I'd loved him for years. I knew what his silence meant.

"The ritual was interrupted. Forcing it now would damage your body."

He spoke gently, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

It was true. It just wasn't the real reason.

"Elena, please — get some rest tonight, okay?"

He finished wrapping my wrist and lifted it toward his lips.

Then he stopped.

He didn't kiss the bandage the way he always had.

I lifted my hand anyway, stubborn, wanting to touch his face. He turned away from me again.

He had a look on his face I'd never seen — embarrassed, distant.

"Give me some time. Let me think this through, okay?"

"It's late, Elena. Go upstairs and get some sleep."

Vicky understood what he meant. She stepped forward and slipped her arm through his.

He paused. He didn't pull away.

"Sorry — could you give us some space? We need to talk."

There was still a tremor in her voice. But the look she gave me was sharp, appraising.

James only watched me. A war in his eyes. After a long silence, all he had for me was, "I'm sorry."

I looked at the two of them standing together, and I couldn't bear it. I turned and left.

Elena's POV

I shut myself in the bedroom and tried to calm down. My head was full of static.

Every corner of this room held memories of him and me.

Our wedding night. A thousand-plus nights of marriage since, all of them spent here.

Yesterday he had still been holding me, soothing me to sleep.

Today, a woman with my face had walked through the door.

They'd been lovers ten years ago. James had never gotten over her death — in three years of dating and marriage, he'd never once taken me anywhere near the sea.

All of it, because of her.

He had only ever fallen for me, married me, because I reminded him of her.

I looked at my face in the vanity mirror, and something inside me broke. I dropped to the floor and gagged.

I didn't want to think any further. I couldn't stop.

They were downstairs right now. What were they saying? What were they doing? I didn't know.

I was the wife. I was the one with a ring. And I didn't even have any standing to call them out.

She'd been there first. It was that simple.

I was the stand-in. I was the one who didn't belong here.

I wrapped my hand around the pendant at my throat.

A blood-red gem, set in fine silverwork.

I could still picture the way James had looked when he went down on one knee in front of me, holding it out.

He'd told me he wanted me to be his vampire bride.

He'd said when the time was right, he would turn me, and we'd be together forever. Never apart.

Every word, still ringing in my ears.

Was none of it real?

Did none of it count anymore?

The tears came in a rush, and I sobbed into my hands.

He was right downstairs. He could hear every sound from up here.

He knew I was crying. He knew I was breaking.

He didn't come.

I sat on the floor, for I don't know how long.

The tears dried up. Only the tight ache in my throat was left.

The voices downstairs drifted up, on and off.

Soft, but I caught every word.

They were talking.

She was crying. He was comforting her.

That low, coaxing tone — I knew it too well.

He'd used it on me a thousand times in three years.

Now all that gentleness was for someone else.

It struck me as almost funny.

The things I'd thought were mine alone — they were just his habit, his default tenderness.

They had never been mine.

I got up slowly and walked to the door.

My hand was on the doorknob. I stopped.

I knew that the moment I opened this door and went down those stairs, I would see them.

I didn't have the courage for it.

I couldn't bear to see his face when he looked at her.

I couldn't bear to see how well they fit together.

I didn't want to remind myself, again, that I was the stand-in.

I still loved him. That was why this hurt so much. That was why I was such a coward.

I stepped back. I leaned against the wall, then slid down it slowly.

There was a weight on my chest that wouldn't shift. I couldn't breathe right.

I don't know how long I sat there. The sky was getting pale.

The voices outside finally went quiet.

Familiar footsteps came up the stairs, closer and closer to the bedroom door.

I froze.

I held my breath.

The door didn't open.

He was standing out there. Hesitating.

I could hear him raise his hand and lower it. Again. And again.

Finally, two soft knocks.

"…Elena."

His voice was low. Through the door, I couldn't read it. I had no idea what he'd decided.

I didn't answer. My throat had closed up. I couldn't have spoken if I'd wanted to.

He waited. When I didn't move, he tried again, gentler.

"Are you all right?"

The question pulled a bitter smile from me.

Was I all right.

Wasn't he the one who would know.

I sat on the floor, eyes fixed on the door.

I said nothing.

The silence got terrible — he must have felt it.

His voice cut off.

After a while, he tried again.

"Can I come in? Let's talk."

I still didn't answer. I curled tighter into the blankets, as if holding on to myself was the only way I could keep breathing.

It went quiet outside.

He stood there. He didn't knock again. He didn't leave.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I…"

He didn't know what to say. Maybe he didn't know how to face me either.

He heard me crying through the door, and he just stayed there. None of his usual soft words. None of the old certainty that a single kiss would stop my tears.

After a while, the footsteps moved away.

He was walking away from the room.

I closed my eyes and sat alone in the dark.

Something hollowed out in my chest.

Like something had been taken from me for good.

I knew what he had decided.

He didn't need the stand-in anymore.

Elena's POV

The next morning, I got up early, pretending nothing had happened.

I put on the pale blue robe James liked best and made breakfast, the way I always did.

I hadn't slept. The shadows under my eyes were awful.

But I didn't know any other way to face this.

The toaster popped. I plated everything and set two breakfasts on the table.

James came down a few minutes later than usual. Vicky was right behind him.

They hadn't come from the same room.

A small, stupid wave of relief went through me. Then I despised myself for it.

James looked uncomfortable.

He saw the shadows under my eyes. The guilt was right there in his face. He started to say something.

Vicky smiled and slid into the chair next to him.

"Thank you, Elena."

"James told me last night you cook beautifully."

"I appreciate the special treatment."

She'd taken my seat. She sat there easy, like she was the lady of the house.

I gripped the hem of my robe. I stared at James, willing him to say something.

He didn't.

My eyes burned. The tears were coming any second.

But I had too much pride for that.

I gave that face — my face — a smile, and reached over and pulled her plate toward me.

"Don't mention it. This one wasn't for you."

I bit into the buttered toast. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James freeze.

Vicky bit her lip. She glared at me, and then made herself laugh, soft and forgiving.

"I understand, Elena. This is hard for anyone."

I pretended I hadn't heard. I pushed the butter toward James.

"Babe? You're not eating? I thought you loved my buttered toast."

"Is it because there's not enough butter today?"

I smiled at him, sweet, working hard to look normal.

He took the butter without thinking. The look in his eyes when he met mine was full of pity.

"Elena, we need to talk—"

I pretended I hadn't heard that either, and just kept going.

"That bread we used to get all the time — I think they changed the recipe. It isn't sweet anymore."

"Elena—"

He said my name. His red eyes shimmered.

He was still being a gentleman about it. He couldn't bring himself to tear off the mask I was holding up, even though my voice was shaking now.

"What do you think, babe? You don't like the new recipe either, right?"

"Let's go to the market together next time. The staff make things easy, but I'd rather—"

"Elena, I'm sorry."

He cut me off, finally.

I bowed my head and chewed the toast. I couldn't taste any of it.

"I'm sorry. The person I love has always been—"

"I'm tired today. Don't. Please."

My shoulders were shaking. My voice was small.

"We'll talk about it later. Okay?"

I lifted my head and tried to smile. The tears came down anyway.

A muscle moved in James's jaw. He looked away. His beautiful, sculpted face was full of struggle.

But he'd made up his mind.

"I can't keep dragging this out, Elena. It isn't fair to you."

He softened his voice deliberately, like he was trying to wake me up.

"The one I love has always been Vicky."

"I told you I didn't want to hear it!"

We spoke at the same time. The plate in front of me hit the floor and shattered.

Vicky cried out, theatrical. James's arm shot up to shield her from the shards.

"Ah — sorry, I—"

I came back to myself and crouched on instinct, starting to pick up the pieces. The tears blurred my vision.

Just like the plate.

No matter how hard I lied to myself, our marriage couldn't be put back together.

Just now, the first person James had reached for hadn't been me.

It had been Vicky.

That was all the answer I needed.

I stood up. I didn't notice I'd cut my finger on the porcelain.

James came toward me in a hurry. He took my hand on instinct. Then he caught himself, let go, stepped back.

"I'll get a doctor—"

I grabbed his hand before he could pull away. I was crying and laughing at once.

I'd wanted to look beautiful for this. I couldn't. My face was all tears.

"James, you said it yourself. You loved me. You were the one who proposed. You wanted me to marry you."

I closed my hand around the pendant at my throat. I looked up at him, begging.

"You swore. You swore you'd protect me my whole life. Love me my whole life."

I stepped closer as I spoke. He turned his face away in pain.

"None of it counts anymore. Does it?"

"I'm sorry."

Even now, all he had for me was sorry.

"Let's get a divorce, Elena."

He said it.

I gave a thin, mocking smile, and let go of his hand.

"James. I'll never agree to a divorce."

I wiped my eyes. I looked at this man I loved more than anything, who could be this cruel to me, and I dug my heels in.

"I promised I would be your wife for life."

"I keep my promises."

"You can wait as long as you want. I'll be dead before I sign those papers."