The morning sunlight poured into the Ashborne estate like gold spilling across the marble floors. Everything sparkled. The air smelled of imported roses and fresh baked croissants. Classical music played softly in the background. It was the kind of morning every woman might dream of.
And Serene tried to believe she was living that dream.
She stood by the bedroom window, a silk robe loosely tied around her waist, her dark skin radiant against the soft cream fabric. Down below, Lelo played on the garden swing, her laughter ringing like a bell. Roman sat not far off, his phone pressed to his ear, his eyes never straying from the child—or from the window where his wife stood.
Serene felt his gaze like a touch. Her body flinched, but she quickly masked it with a smile. A smile she'd trained herself to wear.
She turned away, heading back inside to begin the day.
The house had become familiar. Every polished surface, every scent, every perfectly folded napkin at breakfast. She'd been told this was her home. Her family. Her life. She had photos—pictures of her smiling in a white dress, in Roman's arms, with Lelo holding her hand. A happy wife. A devoted mother. A blessed woman.
So why did she feel like a guest in her own skin?
"Morning, my love." Roman's voice made her tense for a heartbeat. But she smoothed it over, turned, and smiled like a well-rehearsed actress.
"Morning," she replied softly.
He walked up behind her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't melt. Just…stood.
He didn't seem to notice—or maybe he did, and didn't care. His hands slid around her waist. "Sleep well?"
"I always do," she lied.
"You looked beautiful in your sleep," he murmured into her hair. "I watched you for hours."
The way he said it was meant to be romantic. It made her stomach curl.
At breakfast, Lelo clung to her side like a baby koala. She fed her little girl spoonfuls of yogurt and kissed her forehead. She answered every question, complimented every drawing. She was the perfect mama. Just like the storybook.
And yet, guilt gnawed at her. Because even though this little girl called her 'mama,' even though she smiled when Serene braided her hair, something felt…false. Forced. Like she was playing someone else's part.
"Are you happy, Mama?" Lelo asked suddenly, tilting her head with innocent curiosity.
Serene froze.
Roman watched from across the table.
"I am," she answered quickly, brushing a curl from Lelo's face. "Of course I am."
But the words felt like glass in her mouth.
Later, when Roman pulled her into his study for a kiss that lingered too long, her mind whispered he deserves this.
He's given you everything.
A home. A child. Love.
She kissed him back.
And when she lay beside him that night, feeling like a stranger in a stranger's life, she still held his hand.
Because guilt told her she had to.
Because this was the price of being loved.
Because maybe…just maybe…if she kept pretending hard enough, the fake memories would become real.
And then maybe—just maybe—she could finally feel like she belonged.