Chapter 1 : The Beginning of the End

The rain hadn’t stopped since morning. It drummed softly against the tall windows of our penthouse, a sound I used to find soothing before but now it only made the silence heavier.

Shawn had left early, as he always did. No goodbye kiss. No “see you tonight.” Just the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway and the echo of the front door closing behind him.

For three years, that silence had grown like a shadow between us.

I used to believe that love could heal everything that what we had was strong enough to outlast the world’s disapproval. My family warned me that he was too cold, too calculating. But I saw what they didn’t. I saw the man who stayed up with me when I couldn’t sleep, who remembered every small thing that made me smile, who held my hand like it was something sacred.

That man hasn’t been home for months.

I stared at my reflection in the kitchen window,my loose hair, hollow eyes , robe still wrapped around me though it was almost noon. There was a time when I looked forward to his texts, his calls. Now, my phone stayed on the counter all day, silent and mocking me with its emptiness.

When it finally vibrated, my heart betrayed me and leapt.

Shawn: “Be home by 6. We need to talk.”

No heart emoji. No hint of affection. Just six words that carried the weight of something final.

By five-thirty, the rain had turned into a storm. The city outside looked like a watercolor painting blurred by tears. I sat on the couch, my hands trembling against the mug of untouched tea, waiting for a man I no longer recognized.

When I heard the door open, I didn’t move. His footsteps were firm, deliberate. He didn’t even look at me when he walked in, just set his briefcase down and removed his coat as if this were another ordinary evening.

“Shawn,” I said quietly. “You said we needed to talk.”

He turned, and for a fleeting second, I saw the man I married, tall, confident, eyes dark with purpose. But the warmth was gone.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling something from his briefcase. “We do.”

He placed the envelope on the table between us. I didn’t need to open it to know.

I could feel the ending before I saw it.

“Divorce papers,” I whispered.

He nodded. “It’s for the best, Ariana.”

“For the best?” My voice cracked. “For who, Shawn? For you? Or for her?”

That was when I the hesitation and flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was all the confirmation I needed.

“She’s back,” I said softly. “Isn’t she?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said everything.

My breath hitched. “You told me you were over her. That she meant nothing.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “People change, Ariana. Feelings change. I didn’t plan for this”

“No,” I cut in, my voice trembling but sharp. “You didn’t plan it, you just let it happen. The woman who left you, the one who broke you but one smile from her and you’re ready to destroy everything we built.”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t make this dramatic. You knew from the start what I’d been through.”

“I also knew what love looked like,” I whispered. “And for a while, I thought you did too.”

For a moment, he looked almost human again. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach for me but he didn’t. He just slid the papers across the table, his eyes cold and final.

“Sign it.”

Two words. That was all it took to shatter three years of devotion.

After he left, the silence returned, heavier and colder. The apartment that once felt like home now felt like a museum. Every photo on the wall, every memory replaying in my mind, turned into proof of how blind I’d been.

I sank onto the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, the sob I’d been holding breaking free. I didn’t know how long I stayed there maybe minutes, maybe hours until my phone buzzed again.

Lila: Come to Eden Lounge tonight. You need a drink. Or ten.

I hesitated. Going out was the last thing I wanted, but the thought of sitting here surrounded by ghosts was worse. Maybe a drink could numb the ache. Maybe pretending for a few hours would hurt less than reality.

The club was alive with pulsing lights and laughter and the kind of chaos that made it easy to forget yourself. Lila hugged me tight, her red lipstick and sparkling dress a stark contrast to my pale, sleepless face.

“You look like death, babe,” she said bluntly.

“I feel worse,” I muttered, taking the glass she handed me.

“To new beginnings,” she said, raising hers.

“To endings,” I corrected softly, clinking mine against hers.

One drink turned into three. Three became six. And somewhere between the music and the haze, I stopped feeling and stopped remembering.

That’s when I saw him.

Across the bar, in the dim light, a man stood watching me. Tall. Dark suit. Sharp eyes that didn’t belong in a place like this. There was something magnetic about him, not the kind of beauty that begged for attention, but the kind that commanded it.

Our gazes locked. For a moment, everything around me blurred. I should have looked away, but I didn’t. Something about the way he looked at me like he could see straight through the wreckage inside me made it impossible.

He walked toward me, slow and confident, the crowd parting unconsciously as he moved.

“Rough night?” His voice was deep, smooth, dangerous.

I managed a bitter laugh. “You could say that.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Then maybe you should let someone else make it better.”

Normally, I would’ve walked away. But that night, I was tired of hurting. Tired of being the woman who stayed and suffered.

So I didn’t.

I let him take my hand. I let him lead me away from the noise and the heartbreak.

And I let one reckless decision change everything.