The silence was louder than any argument.
Jade Carter sat at the edge of the sofa, hands folded neatly in her lap, as Cole paced the kitchen behind her. The television was on but muted, background noise for a home that never spoke.
It had been two weeks since the wedding.
Two weeks of cold dinners, unopened boxes, and sleeping in separate rooms.
She tried to be useful. She tried so hard.
She unpacked the plates. Labeled the spice rack. Cleaned the grout in the bathroom until her fingers cracked.
Cole never noticed.
Not once.
She made breakfast every morning, toast, eggs, sometimes pancakes if she thought he'd had a rough case the night before. But most days, he didn't eat. Or he left before she even woke up.
Her world shrank, quietly and painfully, until the walls of their apartment felt like padded cages. Outside, the city bustled with life, with the career she used to chase, the stages she used to own.
Now she couldn't even go outside without being chased by paparazzi or judged by strangers.
One evening, she set the table with extra care. White linen. Candles. She wore a soft blue dress that used to be her stylist's favorite pick, and curled her hair like she used to for award nights.
She made his favorite dish, chicken parmigiana, the one his sister mentioned in passing at some family dinner three years ago.
When he walked in, she smiled.
Tentatively. Hopefully.
"Welcome home," she said gently.
He paused. Looked at the table. At her.
Then at his phone.
"I'm not hungry," he muttered, walking past her to his room.
The door shut.
She stood there for a long time.
Claire Blaine came over two days later.
She wore designer boots and a permanent sneer.
Jade made tea, carefully placing the cups on the table, hoping to bridge the gap between them.
"You really gave up your career for this?"
Claire asked bluntly, stirring her tea without sipping it. "That was probably the smartest move you've made. Everyone knows actresses are just pretty puppets. You're lucky Cole married you. Honestly, most men wouldn't."
Jade froze mid-pour.
She smiled faintly. "I didn't do it for luck."
Claire leaned forward. "Don't misunderstand your position, Jade. Cole loves Vivien. He always will. You're just… a bump in the road. A detour."
Her tea tasted bitter.
Jade excused herself before her hands shook too visibly.
Later that night, Cole's friends came over for drinks, lawyers, corporate types, the kind who wore their egos like tailored suits.
Jade brought out the snacks.
They barely acknowledged her.
"She's pretty, I'll give her that," one of them muttered when she left the room. "But can she even hold a conversation about anything real?"
"Actors aren't real," another scoffed. "It's just memorizing lines. It's cute he married one though. Like a pet."
They laughed.
Cole didn't say a word.
Didn't even look at her.
Jade stood behind the kitchen wall, out of sight, tears sliding silently down her cheeks as she pressed a hand to her stomach.
She wasn't just being ignored.
She was being erased.
That night, she curled into a ball on the cold bed in the guest room, whispering lullabies to the child growing inside her.
"You're real," she whispered. "You're mine. I'll be better for you. I'll try harder. Even if no one else sees me… you will."
But deep down, even she was beginning to wonder how much more she could give without falling apart.