CALENDULA

"AH–!"

Sarah lay on the bed, her breathing uneven as she sought release during her ovulation days.

She was a wife, yet in moments when her desire reached its peak like this, the only thing that could bring her to orgasm was a vibrator.

After six years of marriage, she lived in a relationship without touch, without warmth, and without sex.

Every breath felt heavy, and every small movement made her body tense before falling into suffocating silence as she reached her climax.

Tears slipped down her cheeks without her realizing it, mixing with the cold sweat that hadn't yet dried.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

How ironic. So this was what it felt like to be the wife of a billionaire who had everything except love.

Slowly, Sarah pushed the vibrator aside and reached for her phone.

Her nightly routine was always the same: opening her second Instagram account just to check one profile-@Iam.mia.

A new story had just been posted. Mia was holding a bouquet of roses arranged with folded money, smiling softly at the camera with a caption that read, "Thank you, my love."

Sarah bit her lip, staring at the screen for a long time.

Then her thumb moved to open the girl's latest post on her feed. It turned out that today was Mia's twenty-third birthday.

There were three photo slides. One of her with a cake and candles, one with her friends, and the last one that crushed Sarah's chest from the inside.

Mia was holding the arm of a tall man in a white suit embroidered with gold on the cuffs.

Sarah recognized that shirt immediately. She had designed it herself. She had ordered the embroidery with her own hands.

And that man was Ronan Vexler-her husband.

Her gaze froze on the phone screen, her chest tightening as if a heavy stone pressed against her ribs.

She had known about the girl for a year, ever since that night when she saw her husband's phone wallpaper-a young woman with long hair and a beautiful smile.

With a trembling voice, she had asked, "Who is she, Ronan?"

Without hesitation, Ronan had replied softly but firmly, "She's my lover."

His words had hit her like a cold slap. The world had stopped spinning.

Since that night, Sarah hadn't been able to sleep without seeing the woman's face in her mind. She began digging into who Mia was, a young influencer with a million followers, living a glamorous life in the spotlight.

Sarah looked at her reflection on the black screen of her phone-tired eyes, messy hair, and a smile that had vanished long ago.

She turned off the screen, placed the phone beside her pillow, and took a deep breath. Even her eyes had grown tired of crying.

Her name was Sarah Langford, the seventh granddaughter of the Langford noble family, an old bloodline known for its tradition that every daughter must marry a prince from another royal house and serve until death. It was a rule passed down through generations.

Since she was young, Sarah had known she didn't want that life. She had watched her sisters smile in public while their hearts shattered in private.

She had seen how they dressed, spoke, and even breathed according to the rules of the royal families they had married into.

They looked like queens trapped in golden cages-beautiful, but never free.