To Have, To Hold

Chapter 3

### **Chapter Three: Fading Bonds**

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Elena stood at the kitchen counter, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup absentmindedly. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each one a reminder of the passing time, of how little had changed despite the years that had slipped through her fingers. She heard the front door open and the familiar sound of Marcus's footsteps as he walked inside.

He appeared in the doorway, loosening his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. The moment he stepped closer, Elena noticed it—the faint smudge of lipstick on his collar. **Red**, just like the last time, and the time before that. She glanced at it briefly, but her heart barely stirred. There was no surprise, no anger. Just the dull ache of resignation. **It wasn't the first time.**

Marcus had cheated on her more times than she could count, and she had long since stopped trying to confront him about it. It didn't matter. He didn't care, and neither did she—not anymore. The betrayal had lost its sting, dulled by years of indifference. The lipstick was just another reminder of how far they had drifted, how little he respected the vows they had once exchanged.

She hadn't expected fidelity, not after the first affair, not after the second. Now, she only felt relief when he was with someone else. At least when Marcus was distracted by other women, he wasn't trying to touch her. The few times he had tried to rekindle their intimacy in the past year had been awkward, mechanical. Elena had endured it, lying still, her mind far away. But even those attempts had become rare.

Their sex life had become as nonexistent as their affection for each other. At first, it had been a point of confusion for her. How had the man who once pursued her so passionately become so cold, so distant? But now, she welcomed the absence. There was no need to pretend, no need to force herself to feel something she didn't.

In truth, she had never felt loved in those moments with Marcus. Even when their relationship was new, when he had showered her with attention and gifts, there was something hollow in the way he touched her. It had never been about love, not really. It was about possession, control. He wanted her because she was something to be obtained, something to show off. The intimacy between them had always felt like an act of power, not affection.

As the years passed, Elena had grown to be thankful for the growing distance. The less he wanted her, the less she had to give, and she was grateful for that. The thought of being vulnerable to him again, of letting him into her space, her body—it made her skin crawl.

Marcus tossed his jacket over a chair, oblivious to her thoughts. He didn't notice her lack of reaction, or if he did, he didn't care. He had already moved on to whatever was on his mind, the lipstick on his collar nothing more than a brief inconvenience.

"Alexander's coming back to the States next week," Marcus muttered as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages. His voice was tight, the anger already evident in his tone. "Can you believe that? After all this time, he just decides to show up."

Elena's fingers tightened around her coffee cup. The mention of **Alexander** had always been a trigger for Marcus. She had never understood the depth of Marcus's hatred for his older brother. From what little she remembered of their one brief meeting, Alexander had seemed kind, reserved—nothing like the arrogant, angry man Marcus described him to be. But for some reason, Marcus carried a jealousy toward him that bordered on obsession.

"What does he want?" Elena asked softly, more out of obligation than actual curiosity.

Marcus snorted, tossing his phone onto the table. "Who knows? Probably just wants to rub his success in my face again, like he always does. It's all he's ever been good at—being the perfect son, the golden boy. And now he thinks he can just waltz back in here like nothing's changed."

Elena had heard this rant before. Marcus's resentment toward Alexander had been a constant thread in their marriage, woven into the fabric of his insecurities. Alexander, the older brother who had always been better, smarter, more successful. Elena had never met their parents, but from the stories Marcus told, it was clear they had idolized Alexander, and Marcus had spent his entire life trying to measure up.

Alexander had left the country years ago, pursuing his career abroad, and his absence had only seemed to deepen Marcus's bitterness. Now, the thought of his brother returning to the States was enough to set Marcus on edge. Elena could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"He'll probably want to stay with us," Marcus continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know how he is—always pretending to be so humble, so down-to-earth. Meanwhile, he's got more money than any of us and doesn't even flaunt it. It's pathetic."

Elena said nothing, knowing that anything she said would only fuel his anger. She didn't care about Alexander's visit. He was a stranger to her, a ghost from a life she had never been part of. She had only met him once, years ago, and the memory of that moment was hazy, like a half-forgotten dream. She couldn't even recall what they had talked about—if they had talked at all.

But it was enough to know that his presence unsettled Marcus. And when Marcus was unsettled, everyone around him paid the price.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Marcus's mood had darkened, and Elena could feel the shift in the air. She stood quietly, waiting for the inevitable storm that would follow. But instead of lashing out, Marcus turned on his heel and left the room, leaving her standing alone in the dim light of the kitchen.

Elena exhaled, the weight of his presence lifting slightly as he disappeared down the hall. She glanced once more at the lipstick on his collar, a bitter reminder of the life she had chosen—the life she was trapped in. As much as she had once believed in the fairy tale Marcus had promised her, that dream had long since withered into something dark and twisted.

Now, all she could do was endure. For Liam's sake, and for the faint hope that one day, something might change.

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