His Ex Mistress, His Enemy

Sometimes, love doesn’t end with an explosion. Sometimes, it just… dies.

Quietly. Slowly. Without anyone noticing. And by the time you do, you’re already too far gone to turn back.

His scent still lingered on the sheets of that expensive hotel bed. Rain clung to the glass windows, and city lights spilled over his bare chest. His breath, warm against the back of my neck.

He didn’t say much.

Zane Romano never had to.

His words were rare, heavy. That kind of low, gruff voice that reminded you of an old engine that couldn’t be tamed. Even in silence, my body knew exactly what he wanted. His touch always knew where my lines were... and how to cross them.

“Turn around,” he said that night.

And I did.

Because I was stupid. Because I loved him.

His hand brushed my cheek. Those eyes.

That deep, dark blue like they held secrets I’d never be ready to hear.

He looked at me like I was his. Not a secret he kept hidden from the world.

“If I weren’t Zane Romano,” he whispered, “would you still be here?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how.

He kissed me. Soft. Deep.  And then he fell asleep first, like he always did. So calm. So untouchable.

I woke before sunrise. His scent still clung to my skin. My lips were still swollen from his kiss.

But my fingers trembled as I picked up my phone.

One message. From my best friend, Winona. A link. A photo. One line: “He’s engaged, D.”

My heart didn’t beat in that moment. Or maybe it beat too loud for me to hear anything else.

There he was in the photo. Zane. Wearing a tux. Standing beside a woman who looked like she belonged in a magazine. Poised, elegant, smiling like she owned the world.

And as I looked closer, it hit me. This wasn’t a rumor. Wasn’t gossip.

The date on the article said yesterday morning..

Yesterday.

He slept with me the night after his engagement.

I turned slowly, still in disbelief. Zane lay asleep on the bed, one arm stretched across the spot I’d just left. His breathing was steady. His shoulder bare, glinting under the dim light.

His face looked peaceful. Too peaceful for a man who had just shattered someone’s heart.

My eyes burned, but no tears came.

I bent down. Picked up my dress from the marble floor. Found my heels, which suddenly felt heavier.

I was reaching for my clutch when Zane’s phone lit up on the nightstand.

One soft chime.  My eyes flicked to the screen.

AMELLIA MY LOVE 💍

“Love, I threw up again this morning. This baby’s killing me 😩 I can’t wait to tell the board after dinner tonight. Don’t forget to call Papa before that, okay? He wants to confirm the press release. I love you.”

My throat tightened.

One word echoed in my head.

Baby.

This baby’s killing me.

The world tilted. Or maybe it was just me who could no longer stand upright.

My stomach hollowed. My hand clenched around my black clutch until the zipper creaked beneath my grip.

I wanted to wake him. Slap him. Ask one thing: Was I just a mistake you enjoyed before your real life began?

But I already knew the answer.

I was the woman he let fall...with no intention of ever catching.

My feet moved toward the door. Every step felt like pressing into a fresh wound.

I looked back once. One last time. At his silhouette.

And there, standing in the doorway, I finally let the tears fall.

Because sometimes, love doesn’t die all at once. Sometimes, it’s buried alive in the wrong bed.

And me? I buried my heart beside a man named Zane Romano.