Chapter 2: My Boyfriend

I stood frozen in the doorway, my breath caught in my throat.

It felt like my head was swelling, my vision narrowing as I stared at the bed.

It was like a nightmare—except I was wide awake.

How could they do this to me?

Celeste was the first to notice me. She lifted her head, an infuriatingly slow smirk curling her lips, as if she found the entire situation amusing.

“Oh, look who’s here.”

Adrian turned to face me, and for a second, I expected guilt, maybe even surprise. But he didn’t flinch.

Not even a little.

Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into a smirk as he adjusted the blanket draped over his lower half, not even bothering to cover himself properly.

“Eloise,” he drawled, amusement lacing his voice. “I didn’t expect you to come here. You should’ve texted me first.”

His voice was light, casual—like I was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

The cake box slipped from my hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor.

But the real mess, the real disaster, was sprawled across that bed.

My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I looked at them through tear-blurred eyes.

“W-Why?”

The word barely made it past my lips.

“What is the meaning of this? How could you two do this to me?!”

Adrian barely spared me a glance before exhaling in boredom.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you, Eloise?”

He turned to Celeste and pressed a lazy kiss to her forehead.

My breath hitched. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

“H-How could you do this to me, Adrian? You… you promised me.”

My voice cracked, the tears I’d been desperately trying to hold back spilling over.

Celeste rolled her eyes, looking more annoyed than guilty.

Adrian sat up, slipping into his boxers with frustrating ease, as if my presence didn’t even matter—as if my entire world wasn’t collapsing around me.

“You should understand by now,” he said, stretching lazily. “I only approached you to get closer to Celeste. I never loved you.”

I stumbled back a step. “B-But… you cared for me, Adrian. You promised me! We had plans! Was it all a lie?”

He chuckled.

“Of course it was. Why would I ever settle for a substitute like you?”

The words sliced through me, each one sharper than the last.

I had loved him. I had built my future around him. And it had all been for nothing.

“I was just lucky you looked like Celeste,” Adrian continued, shaking his head like the whole thing was some kind of joke. “At least you resemble her, but nothing beats the original, huh? So why would you ever think I actually loved you?”

My breath stalled.

I had given him everything—my time, my trust, my heart—and he hadn’t even cared. Not even a little.

Celeste let out an exaggerated sigh, tossing her hair over her shoulder like the conversation had already gone on too long.

“Ugh! Come on now, Sis! If you don’t have anything else to say, just leave! Adrian doesn’t want you. He never loved you. What more do you need to hear?”

She smirked.

My fingers curled into fists.

For one brief, dangerous second, I imagined lunging at both of them. Letting the raw anger consume me.

They deserved it. They deserved every ounce of pain they had just poured into me.

But instead of lashing out, I turned on my heel and walked away, forcing my legs to carry me out of that apartment before the lump in my throat swallowed me whole.

I walked for what felt like hours, the city lights blurring into a haze around me.

How stupid had I been? How blind?

I had spent years loving Adrian. Supporting his ambitions. Believing in his dreams as if they were my own.

I had fought for us—for our future—only to be discarded like I was nothing.

And Celeste?

My perfect, golden sister. Always the center of attention. Always the one people adored.

But I had never hated her for it. I had accepted my role in the background.

But this betrayal was too much.

She already had everything, yet she still took the one thing that made me happy.

By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were trembling with exhaustion, my feet aching from the long walk. I barely had the strength to push open the door before slumping onto the couch.

Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I didn’t want to look.

Didn’t want to see a message from him. Or her.

But when I did, the name flashing across the screen made my stomach twist.

Celeste: Don’t be too upset, Sis. We’ll have a surprise for you later. Just think of it as an exchange gift. Haha! You’ll always be second place, but at least you got a taste of what it’s like to be first. Even if it was just pretend. 😉

The rage that exploded inside me was unlike anything I had ever felt.

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest object—a framed photo of me and Adrian from our third anniversary—and hurled it across the room.

The glass shattered against the wall, shards scattering like the remnants of my heart.

My paintings hanging on the wall were almost hit.

A strangled sob tore from my throat as I sank to the floor, my body shaking with the force of my grief.

I had never felt this kind of pain before.

It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was betrayal, humiliation, and a loss so deep it hollowed me out from the inside.

I clutched my chest as if I could physically hold myself together, as if I could stop the cracks from spreading.

But what could I do?

I had always been the shadow. The second choice.

And against Celeste, I was nothing.

The next morning, I woke up to the relentless ringing of my phone.

I groaned, my eyes so swollen I could barely open them.

Blindly, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and answered without checking the caller ID.

“What?” I asked, my voice hoarse and weak.

“Turn on the news,” Mia’s voice came through, rushed and urgent.

I rubbed my temples. “Mia, I just woke up—”

“Turn. It. On.”

“Gosh… you’re so persistent!” I grumbled, dragging myself out of bed and grabbing my laptop.

With heavy fingers, I searched for the latest news, wondering what could possibly be so important.

And then I saw it.

The screen flickered to life, and my blood ran cold.

Celeste stood in the center of a grand art gallery, cameras flashing, reporters hanging onto her every word.

And behind her, lining the walls of the gallery, were paintings.

One of them outshone the rest.

She had placed it at the center, displaying it like a masterpiece.

I knew why.

Because it was mine.