Fiancé Fell in Love With Assistant, I Left

Nora's POV

I host a relationship livestream.

Two weeks into a cold war with my boyfriend, a woman called in to my show.

"Hi. I've fallen for someone I shouldn't have."

"He has a fiancée. They've been together eight years. But he's frozen her out, for me. He's been hiding out at my place. What am I supposed to do? There's nothing left between him and her anyway, but eight years is a long time. He doesn't want to hurt her."

"If you already know he's someone you shouldn't love," I said gently, "why won't you let go? Breaking up someone else's relationship isn't right."

The girl was quiet for a moment.

"But he's so good to me."

Maybe I imagined it, but I could have sworn I heard something mocking in her voice.

"He's my mentor at work. We're on the same projects every day. Feelings just grew over time."

"A little while ago, it was their eight-year anniversary. All I did was call and tell him I'd cut my hand slicing fruit, and he dropped everything and drove through a downpour to get to me."

For no reason I could name, my mind flashed back two weeks. Our anniversary. Ryan walking out on me while I sat there full of hope, bolting into the rain.

My heart skipped a beat.

Then I shook my head and pushed the ridiculous thought away.

Ryan and I met in college. The year we graduated, his family's company got caught in a scandal and had to file for bankruptcy. He lost everything overnight, and still he protected me like I was something precious. He gave me the best of whatever he could scrape together, never let me go without, looked after me down to the smallest thing. I'd always told myself what we had wasn't only love anymore. It had grown into family.

A man who loved me like that—how could he ever cheat?

"Listen," I went on, "testing someone like this, wrecking a relationship to do it, it never ends well, even if you win."

The girl laughed.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Two weeks they've been fighting. And in those two weeks, we've been living together, out in the open. He told me I give him a kind of passion he's never felt. His girlfriend only knows how to chase money. She's nothing like the woman he used to love."

The comment section was already going off.

"She's about to get married and you're the side piece bragging about it?"

"Shameless."

"If you two can't keep your hands off each other, just make the scumbag dump her. Stop ruining a good woman's life."

A low hum filled my head. The past came rushing back all at once.

A mentor at work. Two weeks of silence. A fiancée abandoned in the rain on their anniversary.

Every detail lined up with me and Ryan.

A chill ran through me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I called him.

No answer.

I called again. Still nothing.

I couldn't let it go. On the third try, his phone went straight to off.

The girl on the line spoke, a smile in her voice. "See? I told you I matter more to him."

"His fiancée just called three times in a row. Begging him to make up, probably. He didn't pick up once."

Something detonated in my head.

In a single instant, every belief I'd been holding onto came crashing down.

Before I could react, the line went dead.

I lifted my head, shaking all over. My phone lit up. An unknown number, sending me a video.

It was a client dinner. Ryan sat at the table, knocking back shot after shot for some girl.

"Phoebe can't drink. She's allergic."

"I'll cover for her."

Whistles and cheers rose around them.

The girl they called Phoebe was tucked against his side, trembling like a startled rabbit.

My stomach dropped.

I'd gone to a dinner like that with him once. When the clients lifted their glasses to my face and pushed me to take a sip, I told Ryan the same thing, that alcohol made me sick.

Ryan had only smiled. "It's fine. A few sips won't hurt you."

That night, I lost count of how many glasses I drank. All I remember is blacking out completely.