The Husband Who Fell in Love With Me Twice

At 3 a.m., my husband remembered where he lived, and I remembered why I had stopped hoping.

SELENE

Beep... Beep... Beep...

My hands froze on the refrigerator handle.

For a moment, I just stood there, heart stuttering at the sharp sound of the door code being entered incorrectly. The living room was dim, shadows stretching lazily across the walls as I squinted toward the wall clock.

3:00 a.m.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The sound came again, more frantic this time. I heard muffled curses from the other side of the door, metal clinking as someone fumbled aggressively with the keypad.

I closed the fridge slowly and stepped away from it, my fingers curling around the hem of my nightdress. My chest tightened, not with fear, but with a dull, familiar resignation.

The lock finally clicked.

The door creaked open.

I took a step back and quickly turned on the light.

Sebastian stood in the doorway, swaying slightly, one hand braced against the doorframe as he muttered under his breath. He tugged at his tie, struggling to loosen it.

He was drunk.

And I wasn't shocked. Not even a little.

Sebastian Kingsley only remembered this house when he was drunk. Sober, it didn't exist to him.

You might wonder why I didn't panic at the strange sound of someone failing my door code in the middle of the night. The truth was simple, he was the only one who ever came here at odd hours.

We've been married for three years, yet sometimes I forgot I was even a wife. Sebastian hated my presence and barely lived in this house. We were not a loving, doting couple. There were no late-night conversations, no shared routines, no warmth between us.

If it hadn't been for our families arranging this marriage, Sebastian wouldn't have looked at me twice.

And now, here he was, stumbling into the home he refused to acknowledge as his, wearing the ring that bound us both, yet living a life that never included me.

He rolled his eyes the moment he caught sight of me, teetering unsteadily toward my direction.

"Why is it always so bright in this house?" His words were slurred, each one dragging lazily from his lips. He ran a hand through his messy hair, fingers tangling in the strands. "Can't a man come in without a spotlight?"

"I... I can turn it off if you don't like it." I managed to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands hovered near the switch, unsure whether to actually obey.

Sebastian glanced at me, eyes half-lidded, then pushed past me with one careless hand. I stumbled slightly, my chest clenching as my foot caught the edge of the rug, but I didn't protest. He wasn't aggressive. He was just too drunk to notice the ripple of imbalance he left in his wake.

"Ah..." He sighed, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic thud. One hand fell to his forehead, the other draped loosely over the armrest. His