The day Daisy Whitmore returned to Country A was bright and windless, the sky an endless stretch of blue as if even the weather had chosen to welcome her home. Lily stood beside Ethan at the VIP exit of the international airport, her fingers laced tightly together. Around them gathered a small crowd of familiar faces—Ethan’s childhood friends, former classmates, business partners. All were impeccably dressed, holding bouquets and chatting excitedly.

“She should be out any minute now.”
“I heard she published two international papers.”
“At twenty-six! That’s insane.”
“Daisy has always been extraordinary.”

Lily listened quietly. Seven years ago, Daisy had left in a flurry of ambition and tears. Seven years later, she returned triumphant. And Lily—Lily had stayed.

A ripple moved through the crowd as the glass doors slid open.

There she was.

Tall, slender, effortlessly elegant. Daisy walked forward in a fitted beige trench coat, black heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Large sunglasses shielded half her face, her long hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders as she pulled a sleek silver suitcase behind her. She looked like someone stepping out of a magazine cover—confident, radiant, untouchable.

“She’s even prettier than before,” someone whispered.

Daisy paused, scanning the crowd before smiling—a dazzling, luminous smile. She lifted her sunglasses slowly, revealing bright, intelligent eyes that seemed to glow beneath the sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling. “Long time no see!” she called lightly.

Everyone surged forward with greetings and laughter. She responded with warm familiarity, embracing old friends, exchanging teasing remarks. And then her gaze found Ethan.

Everything else seemed to fade.

For a split second, she stilled. Then her lips curved—not polite, not social, but personal.

“Ethan.”

She didn’t walk. She hurried.

In two quick steps, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. The hug was sudden, natural, intimate—as if seven years had been nothing more than a brief separation.

Lily stood close enough to smell Daisy’s perfume. Close enough to see Ethan’s expression.

For a brief moment, he froze.

Then his arms lifted.

And he embraced her back.

Firmly.

The crowd erupted into teasing whistles. “Look at you two!” “Still the same!” “Feels like college again!”

Ethan’s hand rested naturally against Daisy’s back as she leaned her head lightly on his shoulder. From her angle, Lily caught the subtle curve of Daisy’s lips.

Satisfied.

After several seconds, they separated. Daisy brushed her hair behind her ear and finally looked at Lily. Her gaze lingered, curious and slow.

“Oh?” Daisy tilted her head slightly. “And this is…?”

There was a pause. Small. But unmistakable.

Ethan glanced at Lily for a fraction too long before replying calmly, “This is Lily. My wife.”

The word hung in the air.

Wife.

Daisy’s expression stiffened for half a heartbeat before she smiled again. “Your wife?” she repeated softly, as if testing the sound.

Her eyes met Lily’s. In front of everyone, her expression remained graceful. But when Ethan briefly turned to respond to someone else, the warmth vanished. What replaced it was sharp. Assessing. Almost possessive.

As if Lily were standing on borrowed ground.

Daisy extended her hand. “Hello. I’ve heard… a little about you.”

The pause felt deliberate.

Lily forced herself to accept the handshake. “Welcome back.”

Daisy’s grip was gentle. Her gaze was not.

Then she turned to Ethan again, smiling lightly. “You came to pick me up personally. I’m honored.”

“You just got back,” Ethan replied evenly. “Of course.”

Of course.

The group soon began moving toward the parking area. Daisy barely took two steps before Ethan reached forward and took the handle of her suitcase.

“Give me that. I’ll carry it.”

It was a simple gesture. Small. Gentlemanly.

Lily stopped walking.

A memory surfaced with brutal clarity—three years ago in Switzerland. She had dragged two heavy suitcases across uneven cobblestones while Ethan walked ahead, hands in his coat pockets, speaking on the phone. She had stumbled once, nearly falling.

He hadn’t looked back.

“Walk faster,” he had said impatiently. “You’re blocking people.”

Even on their honeymoon, she had carried half the luggage.

He had never once offered to help.

Not once.

But now he held Daisy’s suitcase as if it were instinct.

Daisy looked up at him with a soft laugh. “Still so considerate.”

Ethan didn’t deny it.

They walked side by side, close—too close—while Lily followed a few steps behind, the distance between them stretching wider than the pavement beneath her feet.

At the parking lot, luxury cars lined the curb, engines humming softly. Ethan placed Daisy’s suitcase carefully into the trunk of his black Aston Martin before walking to the passenger side and opening the door for her. The motion was smooth and automatic. He even placed a hand above the doorframe so she wouldn’t bump her head.

Daisy smiled. “Thank you.”

She slid into the seat naturally, as though she had done it countless times before.

Lily stood frozen.

She looked at the open car. Then at Ethan. “Where am I sitting?” she asked quietly.

Ethan shut the passenger door and turned toward her, as if only now remembering she existed. He glanced around vaguely. “I don’t know. Ride with someone else, maybe.”

For a moment, she thought she had misheard. “What?”

“There are plenty of cars,” he replied casually. “Just get in one.”

“So you’re just leaving me here?” Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. “Am I your wife or not?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Stop being unreasonable. It’s just a seat.”

Just a seat.

Just a hug.
Just a suitcase.
Just seven years.

Daisy rolled the window down slightly. “Lily, right?” she called sweetly. “You can ride with the others. We’ll see you at the venue.”

Her tone was kind—too kind. As if she were the hostess. As if Lily were the outsider.

For a brief second, Lily considered opening the back door and forcing herself into the car.

But Ethan had already walked to the driver’s side. He didn’t look at her again.

The engine roared to life.

The car pulled away smoothly.

Leaving Lily standing in the fading exhaust.

Behind her, one of the female friends gave her a sympathetic—but faintly amused—look. “Come on,” she said lightly. “Our car’s this way.”

Lily turned slowly. The black Aston Martin was already merging into traffic. Through the windshield, she could see Daisy leaning slightly toward Ethan, saying something with a smile.

He looked relaxed.

Happy.

Lily swallowed hard.

Seven years of marriage, and she still didn’t even have the right to sit beside her husband.

The white moonlight had returned.

And Lily finally understood something terrifying—

She had never been the leading lady in her own marriage.

Only a placeholder.

And now, the original owner had come back to reclaim her place.