3 I Am Coming For You

Max***

Actress Sara and her billionaire boyfriend, Samuel Johnson, made their grand entrance at his parents' anniversary celebration, radiating sophistication and elegance. The event buzzed with excitement as the couple, now in their fifth year together, dazzled everyone with their undeniable chemistry. They were the epitome of modern romance, their connection seemingly unbreakable, a testament to years of shared experiences, laughter, and deep love.

Those who knew them couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for their relationship. Friends and family had long watched the evolution of their love story, from the first meeting to the inevitable merging of their lives. As the evening progressed, murmurs of a potential proposal floated in the air. The couple’s bond, forged through shared dreams and unwavering support, made it clear that the next step was imminent. Everyone eagerly anticipated the announcement, whispering excitedly about the future chapters of their journey together.

What a joke!

I couldn't help but smile bitterly as I watched them, five years of their perfect, no-nonsense relationship, the epitome of what I had always wanted but could never have. I leaned back in my chair, my eyes locked on the screen as they danced, blissful and unaware of the world around them.

I guess she never loved me. I had told myself that a hundred times before, but it never made it any easier to swallow. Sara had finally found someone who could give her everything I never could—money, power, status—and, of course, a diamond ring that probably cost more than my entire house. A ring that would be a constant reminder of her new life, a life I would never be a part of.

I swallowed my drink, the burning sensation in my throat mimicking the ache in my chest. My fingers absently brushed the ring hanging around my neck, the same one I had once promised her would be hers. That was before everything fell apart, before I realized that love wasn’t enough to hold two people together when their worlds were so far apart.

A wave of bitterness washed over me, but I quickly pushed it aside. I had moved on, or at least I told myself I had. I knew deep down that happiness didn’t come from love or material possessions. But watching her with him, so content, so fulfilled, made it hard not to feel resentful. She had found her happiness, her perfect life, while I was left to pick up the pieces of a love I thought would last forever.

"Babe..."

The voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I sighed, not even needing to look up to know who it was. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer, but all I felt was a coldness in the gesture. I stiffened and tried to pull away, but she held on tighter, her warmth, a reminder of what I no longer wanted.

"I missed you," she said, her voice soft, almost pleading.

"I don’t think so," I replied, my voice devoid of warmth. "And don’t come here anymore."

Her grip faltered for a moment, confusion flickering in her eyes before frustration took over. "But why? I thought we had something real, something more than just physical attraction. Lately, though, you've been pushing me away. I deserve more than that."

I shook my head, my patience wearing thin. "We were never anything more than a casual fling. We both got what we wanted, and that’s the end of it."

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she processed my words. "But I thought there was something deeper between us," she whispered, the hurt evident in her voice.

"Don’t act like you care," I snapped, turning away from her. "You only wanted me for what I could give you—my fame, my attention. You were never interested in anything real."

Her expression shifted from hurt to anger, and she stood tall, defiance flashing in her eyes. "That's not true!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "I genuinely cared about you. Fame or no fame. But if you see it that way, maybe it’s best we end this."

"Good for you," I muttered, the words cold, final. "I can’t be bothered to care anymore."

I didn’t turn back to face her as I walked away. It wasn’t anger driving me anymore—it was resignation. I no longer had the energy to pretend. No matter how much I had once wanted her, I couldn’t fight for something that was no longer there.

But as I sat there, alone, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing emptiness inside. Despite everything, a part of me still longed for her—Sara, the woman I thought I’d spend my life with. She had moved on, found someone else who could give her everything she wanted. And yet, I was still standing in the same place, stuck in the past, unable to move forward.

I sighed, the sound heavy with regret. "Sara..."

Her name lingered in the air, a soft whisper that only I could hear. I closed my eyes, the memories flooding back—her laughter, her smile, the warmth of her touch. I still remembered the way her voice had sounded when she called my name, the way she looked at me like I was the only person in the room. It all felt like a dream, one I wasn’t ready to let go of.

I could still hear her voice, clear as day, calling to me, and for a brief moment, I almost believed that if I reached out, she would be there. But she wasn’t. She was gone, and I was left with nothing but a hollow space where once there had been love.

I knew I was broken, and I knew she had moved on. But that didn’t stop me from wanting her back.

She might have found someone else, someone who could offer her all the things I couldn’t, but in my heart, I knew that no one could ever love her like I could. No one could make her feel the way I made her feel.

And no matter how much it hurt, no matter how impossible it seemed, I wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.

"Sara..." The name came out as a plea, soft but desperate. "Just wait for me. I’m coming for you."

I wasn’t sure how or when, but I would find a way. I would do whatever it took to make her see that our love was real—that it wasn’t over. She was mine to love, mine to cherish, and I would fight for her with everything I had. Because I knew, deep down, that she was the only one for me.

Our love story wasn’t finished. Not yet.

And I refused to let it end without a fight.