The Unwanted Bride: Mommy belongs to Daddy

Savannah's POV

It has been two years since I married Daniel, and in all that time, he has seen me as nothing but a burden in his life.

I was never supposed to be his wife. It was supposed to be my stepsister, but she ran away on the day of the wedding. And just like that, my stepmother forced me to take her place. I still wish I could turn back time, make a different decision, and run away too.

Life without a biological mother is tough, and living with people who only see you as a second choice is even worse. I never imagined my life would be like this. Every day feels suffocating, like I'm trapped in a nightmare I can't escape.

I know Daniel has been searching for a way to divorce me. I tried to hold on, to make things work, but now I think it's time to let him go and move on with my life.

I stared at the divorce papers trembling in my hand. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. This was it. I was finally setting him free from this empty, one-sided marriage. I love him more than words can describe even though I was forced to married him, but love means wanting the other person's happiness-even if that happiness doesn't include me.

I don't know when or how I fell for him. It just happened, like a flower blooming unnoticed until it's in full bloom. But what's the use of love when it's only felt by one heart? I kept hoping, year after year, that he would change his mind and accept me as his wife. I prayed for a miracle, but it never came. Now, I'm ready to give him what he's been silently longing for.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already past seven; Daniel should be back from work by now. My heart raced as I stood up, clutching the papers like a lifeline. Each step toward his room felt heavier than the last, but I pushed myself forward.

When I reached his door, it creaked softly as I opened it. My breath caught in my throat. Daniel was stepping out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. Droplets of water glistened on his bare chest, catching the light like tiny crystals.

I froze, my eyes glued to him, lost in the sight of the man I had loved for so long.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice cold and distant, his gaze meeting mine.

I snapped out of my trance and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," I whispered, extending the divorce papers toward him with a shaky hand.

He frowned and took the papers, unfolding them with deliberate slowness. I waited for the relief to wash over his face, for a smile of freedom. But instead, his expression shifted. His jaw tightened, his brows furrowed, and a shadow passed through his eyes.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice low and strained.

"The divorce papers," I said softly. "I thought...I thought this is what you wanted."

I turned to leave, eager to escape the suffocating tension in the room. But before I could take a step, he reached out and grabbed my wrist, his grip firm yet hesitant.

"Wait," he said, his voice no longer cold but filled with something unfamiliar. "Why now?"

Tears pricked my eyes as I looked at him. "Because I love you enough to let you go," I whispered. "And because...I can't keep pretending everything is okay when it's not."

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. His eyes searched mine, and for the first time in years, I saw something other than indifference. Was it confusion? Regret? I couldn't tell.

The papers rustled in his other hand as silence stretched between us. And in that moment, I realized that sometimes, letting go is the bravest act of love there is.

It's better if I leave your life. Isn't that what you've been waiting for all along?

I know you love Mirabel. I know I can never truly be a part of your life.

Don't worry, I'll leave quietly, without anyone knowing. It's my choice, I said, my voice trembling with sadness.

"What if you're wrong?" he asked, pulling me closer to him.

I stared at him, confusion written all over my face.

"You can't leave me," he said firmly, gripping my wrist as if letting go would break him.

"Why? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Do you enjoy the way you've been treating me?" I asked, my voice rising with anger.

I had never raised my voice at him before, but the frustration and pain were too overwhelming to contain.

He stared into my eyes, his gaze intense, before he began moving closer. I instinctively took a step back, then another, until my back hit the wall. My heart raced in fear.

Is he going to hurt me for shouting? I thought, panic flashing through me.

He dropped the paper he was holding and gently lifted my chin with his fingers.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

I froze, my eyes widening in shock.

Did I hear him right? My husband never cared about my feelings, let alone apologized.

"Do you want to divorce me?" he asked suddenly.

Why is he asking? Shouldn't he be happy to sign the papers? Why does he look sad?

"Isn't that what you want?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he said, his expression unreadable.

I knew it. My heart sank.

"But not anymore, Savannah," he added, his voice breaking the silence like a spark in the dark.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"I love you," he said.

No! This can't be real. I must be dreaming. My husband has never said these words to me, not even on our wedding day.

I searched his face for a sign of deceit, a cruel joke perhaps, but found only sincerity. And then, before I could gather my thoughts, his lips met mine in a kiss that melted away my doubts.

If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up.

In that moment, I knew-heaven was right here in his arms.