The Flashback
The café buzzed around me, the noise of clinking cups and the murmur of conversations blending into a distant hum. Normally, the familiarity brought me peace, but today, everything grated on my nerves. My mind was restless, consumed by thoughts of Rowan and the tangled mess my life had become.
I wiped down the counter again, my eyes flicking to the door, half-expecting him to walk in. Just thinking about him made my chest tighten. It had been a few days since our wedding, and while I had hoped the shock would wear off, it still clung to me like a heavy fog.
Rowan Vaughn—the man who had once captivated me, the man I’d stupidly fallen for—was now a constant presence in my life. But the fantasy I had created about him had shattered the moment I walked down that aisle. He wasn’t the hero I had dreamt of. He was a nightmare wrapped in a tailored suit.
Money had been paid to my aunt's account, just like Rowan promised. Jules was stable now, at least for the time being. But the cost... I didn’t know if I could live with the price I had paid.
"Hey, earth to Remi," Nina’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. She leaned against the counter, a teasing grin on her face. "You’ve been wiping that same spot for like, ten minutes."
I blinked, pulling myself out of my haze. "Sorry, got lost in thought."
Nina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you do that a lot lately. So, how’s married life? Is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding everything you hoped for?"
I forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated?" She raised an eyebrow. "You used to practically swoon every time he walked in here."
My chest tightened at the memory, the moment I first saw Rowan. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Flashback
It was a busy afternoon, and I was rushing between tables, balancing a tray of coffee cups. The bell above the door jingled, and I glanced up. That was when I saw him for the first time.
Rowan Vaughn.
He stood in the doorway, his presence commanding attention without even trying. His suit, perfectly tailored, clung to his broad shoulders, and his intense dark eyes swept the café until they landed on me. For a moment, the world around us faded, leaving just the two of us. I remember thinking he looked like he had stepped out of a dream—or one of those brooding romantic dramas I used to watch.
"Hi, what can I get you?" I managed to ask, my voice shaking just a little.
He glanced at the menu briefly before locking eyes with me. "Black coffee."
He handed it back to me, our hands touching, I gulped. The way he was looking at me made my cheeks hurt as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
As I prepared his drink, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. There was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet confidence, the aura of power. When I handed him the coffee, our fingers brushed once again, and a spark shot through me.
"Thanks," he said, his deep voice making my stomach flip. He smiled—just a small, knowing smile—but it made my heart race.
“You’re welcome…” I replied shyly.
His eyes flicked to the name tag on my shirt. “Remi.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue almost made me faint. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I hope you don't mind serving me coffee from now on. I like your service.”
He smiled again and I just nodded. Too dumbfounded to speak.
That moment was etched into my memory. The first time I had ever really noticed a man like that or better still the first time a man like him noticed me.
He had walked out of the café and out of my life just as quickly as he had entered it, but he left an impression.
"Remi!" Nina snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me back to the present. "You’re blushing like a schoolgirl."
I laughed awkwardly, shaking my head. "I was just... remembering."
She smirked. "I knew it. You were head over heels from day one. So, what’s the deal now? Trouble in paradise?"
I hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "It’s not that simple, Nina."
Her expression softened. "What do you mean?"
I sighed, leaning against the counter, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. "He’s... not who I thought he was. I felt like he came here that day to gauge how I was. To know if I was the fighting type. It's the only way to explain that fact that I saw him with other women on our wedding day."
Nina’s eyes widened. "What? On your wedding day?"
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah. And I didn’t do anything. My aunt and uncle practically shoved me down the aisle. They used Jules against me, told me that if I didn’t go through with it, we wouldn’t be able to afford her treatment."
“Oh my goodness, I thought you were happy that fate brought you to the man you have dreams over.”
I sighed. “I wished those dreams were nightmares.”
"That’s messed up," Nina whispered. "Why didn’t you stand up for yourself?"
"Because I didn’t have a choice," I said, my voice shaking. "Rowan controls everything now. My life, my finances... Jules’s treatment. I’m trapped."
Nina frowned, crossing her arms. "That’s not right, Remi. You deserve better than this."
"I know," I whispered, my heart heavy. "But what choice do I have?"
The café door jingled again, and my heart stuttered. Rowan walked in, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me. He made his way toward the counter, his presence as commanding as ever.
"Nina, can you cover table five?" I asked, my voice tight.
She shot me a worried glance but nodded. "Sure."
Rowan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he approached. "Remi, we need to talk."
I stepped out from behind the counter, nodding toward a quieter corner of the café. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked, crossing my arms defensively.
He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "There’s a charity event next Saturday at my grandfather’s house. I need you to be there. You need to play the part—smile, be the perfect wife. Can you do that?"
My blood boiled at his words. "Are you serious? You were with other women on our wedding day, Rowan. You haven’t even apologized, and now you’re asking me to pretend everything’s fine?"
He stiffened, his expression hardening. But I could see the stress in his gaze.
"You don’t understand. This marriage is... complicated."
"Complicated?" I snapped. "You don’t get to blame your grandfather or your circumstances. You made your choices, Rowan."
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "I’m not some puppet you can control. I won’t do this unless you start treating me with respect. If you can’t do that, then I don’t care about your charity event or your reputation."
For a moment, he just stared at me, as if trying to process my words. Then, slowly, his jaw clenched. "I didn’t want this marriage any more than you did, Remi. But it’s done. We’re in this together, whether you like it or not."
"Only because you need me," I spat. "For your image. For your grandfather. Not because you actually care."
“And do you care about me?”
My lips trembled as I look into those eyes. “More than you do. I wish I don't buy unfortunately I do.”
He reached out as if to touch me, but I stepped back. "Don't," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Don’t pretend you care now. You’ve already shown me who you really are."
Rowan’s eyes flickered with something—guilt? Frustration? I couldn’t tell. "Remi..."
"No," I said firmly. "I won’t do this. Not like this."
Without another word, I turned and walked away, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t look back as I made my way to the back of the café, needing a moment to breathe, to gather myself before I broke down completely.
The rest of my shift passed in a haze. By the time I left the café, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I pulled my coat tighter around me, stepping out into the cold night air. But just as I reached for my keys, a hand grabbed my arm.
"Remi," Uncle Jacob’s voice was cold and commanding. "We need to talk."
I yanked my arm free, glaring at him. "Not now, Uncle Jacob. I’m tired."
His face darkened, his grip tightening. "You don’t have a choice. Get in the car."
Reluctantly, I followed him outside, my heart sinking deeper with each step. The drive to Rowan's estate was silent, the tension thick in the air. I didn’t want to go back there, not after everything. But I didn’t have a choice. I never did.
When we arrived, Uncle Jacob looked at me, his face a mask of cold determination. "Better behave," he muttered.
I clenched my fists, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. "Whatever."
Inside, the house was quiet, the grandness of the estate feeling more like a prison than a home. Rowan was waiting in the living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes glazed over from too much alcohol.
"Remi," he slurred, motioning for me to come closer. "Come here."
I stayed where I was, my heart heavy.
“What do you want, Rowan?”
His eyes were glassy, and I could see he was far from sober. It was the first time I had ever seen him like this, his usual calculated composure shattered by whatever demons haunted him tonight. He had never shown up to our home before—he preferred his penthouse, where he could keep his distance from me. But tonight, he was here. And something was off.
“I…missed you.”
I frowned. “What…”
The words barely left my lips before Rowan’s hands reached for me, gripping my waist with a sudden desperation that caught me off guard. His breath was hot, tinged with the bitter scent of whiskey as he buried his face against my neck, inhaling deeply.
“I need you… Gigi,” he whispered, the name slurring from his mouth like a dagger.
I froze, the name hitting me with a cruel jolt.
Gigi.
He wasn’t seeing me.
He wasn’t here with me. The pain tore through my chest like a cold wind, sharp and unforgiving. But then he pressed closer, his hands trembling as they slid up my back, pulling me against him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against my skin, his lips grazing my collarbone. “I’m so sorry, Gigi… I missed you…”
My heart screamed at me to push him away, to yell at him, to demand that he stop confusing me with whoever that was.
But something held me there, trapped between the ache in my chest and the heat of his touch. I had spent so many nights wondering if he would ever come to me, ever show me any sign of affection. And now, here he was—drunk, vulnerable, mistaking me for someone else—but the yearning in his voice, the need in his touch, made my resolve crumble.