Chapter Two: Dares to cheat on me?

The rooftop is empty now. I sit alone beneath the six flickering candles that dance like they’re mocking me, their flames burning low just like my patience. The wine has gone warm. My food is untouched. And I’ve counted every step I’ve heard on the stairwell for the past forty minutes—none of them his.

Clara and William never came back with that so-called forgotten gift. I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment they exchanged that glance. The moment William shifted uneasily and Clara dabbed her lips like she was already hiding something she’d tasted and didn’t want me to smell.

I check my phone again. No text. No missed calls. Nothing.

My heart thuds in my chest like it’s knocking to escape. Every second feels like a judgment. My dress feels too tight, not because it is, but because my lungs don’t trust the air anymore. Something is wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong. And when that kind of knowing sets in, it doesn’t whisper. It claws.

I rise from the chair slowly, smoothing the satin down my thighs with hands that tremble. My heels clack softly against the rooftop tiles as I walk toward the stairs. Each step down is louder than it should be, echoing through me like a countdown. The stairwell is dim, but I don’t need light. My vision is painted with dread.

When I step out into the back parking lot, the night greets me with silence. At first.

Then I hear it—a laugh. Soft, girlish, unmistakably Clara.

My feet move before I know what I’m doing. I round the corner of the building, and there they are. Clara, pinned against the side of William’s car, her legs wrapped around him like she belongs there. His hands are under her dress, and her fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him deeper into the kiss they’re devouring each other with. Not a shred of guilt between them. Just hunger. Raw, filthy, disgusting hunger.

They haven't seen me yet.

I can’t breathe. My throat feels like it’s closing, my ribs like they’re caging in around my heart. I’ve seen heartbreak in movies, heard it in ballads, read it in novels—but nothing, nothing prepared me for the nuclear burn that explodes through your chest when you see the man you’ve loved for six years treating your best friend like she’s the one he’s been waiting for all along.

“William,” I say, and my voice doesn’t crack, it shatters.

He freezes. His hands are still on her hips. Clara turns her head first, her lipstick smudged, her smile twisted. There’s no panic in her eyes. No shame. Just a flicker of amusement, like she’s been waiting for this moment.

“Sophia,” she says, smoothing her hair, not bothering to pull down her dress. “Didn’t expect you so soon.”

I look at William, and I wish he’d have the decency to look afraid. But he doesn’t. He steps back from Clara slowly, like he’s annoyed the moment ended. He adjusts his shirt, runs a hand through his hair, and meets my eyes with a look so cold, I wonder if I ever knew this man at all.

“It’s not what you think,” he says flatly, out of habit more than intention.

“Then tell me what it is,” I whisper, though every cell in my body already knows.

Clara chuckles and crosses her arms. “It’s called finding what you need, Sophia. Something real and satisfying, you know?”

My hand flies before I think. The crack of the slap echoes louder than her laugh ever did. Her cheek blooms red instantly, and I don’t regret it. Not even a little.

“You whore,” I spit, not caring that I’m shaking now. “You sit at my table. You cry on my shoulder. You wear my damn lipstick and whisper secrets to me like we’re sisters. And you do this?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” she hisses back, rubbing her face. “He’s been mine for months. You were just the sympathy lay. The backup plan.”

William sighs, like this is all beneath him. “I was tired, Sophia. Tired of pretending. Of playing house with someone who didn’t know how to keep a man interested. You’re so busy planning dates, cooking perfect meals, trying to play the good girl. But you forgot how to be a woman.”

I laugh then. Not because it’s funny, but because the pain inside me has nowhere else to go.

“You think cheating makes you more of a man?” I ask. “You think sticking your dick in my best friend gives you power? You’re pathetic. You’re a coward who didn’t even have the balls to end it before crawling between her thighs.”

He steps toward me. “Watch it.”

“Or what?” I say, chest rising. “You’ll hit me? Go ahead. Prove to everyone what I’ve known for months now. That you’re not a man. You’re a weak little boy who can’t handle a strong woman.”

“He needed a real woman.” That bitch starts to speak again, but I throw the heel I’ve taken off straight at her face. She ducks, screams, but it doesn’t matter. I grab the wine bottle from the edge of the car and smash it against the pavement, the sound thrilling and horrifying all at once.

“I gave up everything for you,” I say through gritted teeth. “The job in Paris. The chance to start my own brand. The life I could’ve had. And for what? For this? For you to fuck this useless bitch in the back of your car while I’m lighting candles for our anniversary?”

“That hotel dream of yours?” William sneers. “It was just a joke. I never believed in you. I just didn’t want you to leave before I figured out what I wanted. And guess what? It wasn’t you.”

Something inside me splits. Not a crack, but a clean break. A release.

I stare at him. At her. At the filth they are together.

“You deserve each other,” I whisper. “But mark my words, Clara. If you think he won’t cheat on you, too, you’re dumber than you look.”

She snarls, stepping toward me, but I don’t flinch. I’m done being afraid. I’m done being small.

“He only needed a real woman like me,” she says again, but now her voice shakes.

I stare her down, fire burning through my veins. “Then why did you have to crawl behind my back like a rat instead of standing in the light like a woman?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

I take a deep breath. My hands are still shaking, my throat is raw, but my spine is straighter than it’s ever been. I pick up my other heel, tuck it under my arm, and turn away.

William calls out, something venomous, something cowardly, but I don’t hear it. Not really.

Because I’m walking away. Not just from him. From the girl who waited. From the woman who hoped. From the version of me that settled for less than she deserved.

With every step I take, the old Sophia dies a little more.

I don’t look back. I don’t cry.

Because he doesn’t get my tears. Not anymore.

“You think you’ve broken me? This is just the beginning.” I mutter.