No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 1

**My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**
**Chapter 1: Platonic Marriage**

The moment Amelia Harlow set foot back in Eldoria, fate had other plans. In a cruel twist of irony, she found herself in a minor car accident. While the damage wasn’t severe, the ensuing chaos of paperwork and formalities felt like a weight pressing down on her weary shoulders. Exhaustion seeped into her bones as she hobbled out of the hospital, her leg throbbing with every step.

Desperate for a familiar voice, she dialed Ethan Rowe’s number three times, only to be met with silence. On her fourth attempt, a small voice answered the phone, bright and innocent.

“Ethan is celebrating my birthday and bought lots of lovely presents for me and Mommy. He’s too busy to talk to you.”

Amelia’s heart sank as she recognized the voice of a little girl, probably no older than five.

Stunned, she stood frozen, grappling with the implications of that sweet, innocent proclamation. It wasn’t until Kevin Cain, Ethan’s secretary, chimed in that she snapped back to reality.

“Mrs. Rowe, Mr. Rowe is at Reverie Heights celebrating Ms. Boyd’s birthday. Would you like to come over?” His tone was cautious, almost as if he were treading carefully around a hidden truth.

It took Amelia a moment to process the name “Ms. Boyd.” Hannah Gray’s daughter, Isla Boyd. Hannah, the widow of Ethan’s best friend, Jack, had returned to Eldoria with her daughter shortly after her husband’s tragic passing. Tonight was the welcome-back party that Ethan had organized in their honor.

A heavy weight settled in Amelia’s chest as she glanced at her reflection in the car mirror—disheveled hair, a smudge of dirt on her dress. She felt utterly defeated. “Where are they?” she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

After hanging up, she took a cab, her heart racing as she approached the outskirts of the town. Reverie Heights, perched halfway up the hillside, loomed ahead. Each step toward it was a battle; her injured leg protested against the cold air and the weight of her thoughts.

The early October snowflakes danced around her as she entered the restaurant, just in time to witness Isla blowing out her birthday candles. The little girl’s wish echoed through the room, innocent and pure.

“I wish that me and Mommy and Ethan could be together forever! I hope Mommy can marry Ethan!”

The sweetness of her voice struck Amelia like a dagger.

Time seemed to freeze as she caught sight of them—Ethan and Hannah, seated on either side of Isla, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the flickering candles. For a brief moment, they appeared to be the perfect family, radiating warmth and happiness.

Amelia felt a pang of longing mixed with bitterness. The history between the Grays and Rowes ran deep; Hannah and Ethan had been childhood sweethearts, the envy of their peers. It was a tale of love and loss, a story marred by the unfortunate turn of events that had led Hannah to marry Jack Boyd to save her family. And here she was, Amelia, an accidental wife to Ethan, caught in a web of unfulfilled expectations.

Hannah glanced at Ethan, a smile playing on her lips as she spoke to Isla. “Don’t talk nonsense, sweetheart. Ethan has a wife.”

“But Ethan doesn’t like his wife,” Isla replied, her little face scrunching up in a pout. “Besides, that woman is just a vicious witch. She’s the one who stole Ethan away.”

Hannah’s response was immediate, her voice sharp and reprimanding. “Isla, mind your manners!”

The laughter of a nearby patron cut through the tension.

“Isla has a point, Hannah. Let’s be honest; this all started with Amelia. If she hadn’t schemed her way in with that ‘debt of gratitude’ act, Fiona Rowe would never have had the leverage to force Ethan’s hand. This is on Amelia, not Isla.

“All these years, Ethan’s remained faithful to you, never even touching Amelia. He convinced her he was into platonic relationships, and she actually believed him. How can someone like Amelia even call herself Ethan’s wife? Right, Ethan?”

The restaurant buzzed with murmurs and laughter, each word a slap to Amelia’s already bruised heart. She stood there, paralyzed, the pain in her leg forgotten as the reality of her situation washed over her like a cold wave.

Ethan had never touched her. After their marriage, he had insisted on a platonic relationship, and she had accepted it, clinging to the hope that love would eventually blossom. But now, it was painfully clear that he was merely holding onto loyalty for Hannah.

“Divorce?” His expression darkened, confusion etched across his features. “Just because I’m celebrating Isla’s birthday?”

Oh, it was so much more than that. The unanswered phone calls, the suffocating loneliness of a marriage where she felt like a ghost, a husband who remained faithful to another. The irony of it all was almost laughable.

“I don’t need a useless man, and I definitely don’t need a husband who’s playing house with another woman and her daughter. I’ll have my lawyer send you the divorce papers.”

With that, Amelia turned on her heel, her heart racing as she made her way toward the exit. Her words hung in the air, shocking everyone into a stunned silence.

Hannah, feeling the weight of the moment, offered a weak smile, attempting to diffuse the tension. “It’s all Isla’s and my fault. I didn’t think Ms. Harlow would be this upset. Ethan, Ms. Harlow is your wife after all. You should probably go after her and check on her.”

“Not necessary.” Ethan’s indifference was palpable. “She’s been Mrs. Rowe for so many years. Without me, how would she even survive?”

Six years of a marriage devoid of intimacy, and she had endured it all. Surely, she wouldn’t actually go through with a divorce now. It had to be a tantrum, a plea for his attention.

Hannah bit her lip, her mind racing. “But what about the Everetts? That might be hard to explain. After all, Amelia lived with the Everetts for three years. If Mason finds out…”

Amelia was the adopted daughter of the Harlows, but after Beatrice Harlow’s return to the family, Amelia had been cast aside, only to be adopted by the Everetts. Rumors swirled that during her time with them, they had cherished her as if she were a precious gem.

Amelia had once been passionate about art; there was a time when the second son of the Everetts had spent millions at an auction just to win a painting she adored, making a grand spectacle of it. If only she hadn’t insisted on returning to the Harlows, she might have still been living in comfort, surrounded by love and appreciation.

But here she was, standing at the precipice of her own freedom, ready to choose a path that was truly her own.