005

Gerald’s POV

The first sign that something was wrong came on a Tuesday, although it was so small that I almost ignored it.

Ophelia had promised to meet me for dinner, but she never showed up. I checked my watch for the third time before finally picking up my phone, only to find that there was no message, no missed call, and absolutely nothing from her.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before locking it and putting it aside. She was probably busy, and that was all there was to it. People had lives outside of each other, and I understood that, so I forced myself to return to work instead of making a big deal out of something so insignificant.

An hour later, my phone finally vibrated.

Ophelia: Something came up. Sorry.

I stared at the message, waiting for another one to appear, but that was it. There was no explanation, no attempt to reschedule our dinner, and not even a proper apology beyond those four words.

I should have been annoyed, but instead, I found myself making excuses for her because perhaps she was tired, perhaps something unexpected had happened, or perhaps she had simply forgotten.

I stopped myself before I could come up with another excuse because this wasn’t supposed to be important enough to ruin my evening.

I had spent years being suspicious of everything Ophelia did because of what had happened between us before, and I wasn’t going to repeat that mistake now. She deserved the chance to prove that she had changed, especially since I had already decided to give her that chance.

So I put my phone away and went back to work.

A few days later, she cancelled our plans again, but this time, I didn’t even bother asking why because she simply told me that she had been busy, and I accepted her explanation without questioning it.

Or at least, I wanted to believe that I did.

The truth was that things had been different between us lately, although not enough for me to call them wrong. Ophelia seemed distracted whenever we were together, and her phone was practically glued to her hand. Sometimes, she would step away to answer calls, while other times, she would turn her screen away whenever I came close.

Whenever I asked about it, she always had an easy explanation ready, whether it was work, friends, or something personal that she didn’t feel like discussing.

Nothing worth worrying about, she would say, and I kept telling myself that I was being paranoid.

I had already made one mistake by allowing the past to control how I saw her, and I wasn’t going to punish her for something she hadn’t done. I had chosen her, after all, and if I wanted our relationship to work, I had to trust her.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

One evening, I was sitting in my office when Ophelia walked in, looking as beautiful as she always did. However, there was something different about her that night, something I couldn’t quite place, and it bothered me more than I cared to admit.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said as she approached my desk.

She laughed softly before answering, “I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy lately.”

Instead of answering, she walked around my desk and wrapped her arms around my neck, wearing the kind of smile that had once made me forget every reason I had to be careful with her.

“And you’re always working,” she replied.

I looked into her eyes, trying to determine whether I was imagining the distance between us or whether something had genuinely changed.

“Maybe we should spend some time together.”

“We will.”

“When?”

She smiled as though the answer were obvious. “Very soon.”

I studied her face for another moment because I wanted to ask what was really going on, but before I could gather the courage to do so, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Just like that, the question died in my throat because some foolish part of me wanted to believe that she meant it, and I was still desperate enough to believe that I could make things work with her.

So I did.

Three days later, I found out the truth.

I was leaving a meeting when my assistant approached me with an expression that immediately caught my attention.

“Mr. Deneuve.”

I stopped walking and glanced at him. “What is it?”

He hesitated before answering, and the uncertainty in his eyes made me frown.

“There are some photographs circulating online.”

“Of what?”

Instead of answering, he handed me his phone.

I looked down at the screen, and for a moment, everything inside me went completely still.

There she was, my precious Ophelia, standing beside a fucking loser who apparently thought he had the right to put his hands on another man’s woman.

My fingers tightened around the phone as anger began to crawl beneath my skin, but I forced myself to look at the first photograph properly.

They were standing close to each other, closer than two people who were supposedly just friends should have been, but I could still have found an explanation for that if I had wanted to.

Then I swiped to the second photograph, and my stomach twisted when I saw his hand resting comfortably around her waist.

The third photograph destroyed whatever remained of my denial because her lips were pressed against his, and there was absolutely nothing innocent about the way they were kissing.

I stared at the screen, unable to accept what my own eyes were showing me.

No.

My mind rejected the truth before I could even process it because surely, there had to be some explanation for this. Surely, I hadn’t been foolish enough to trust her again only to find myself standing in the same fucking position years later.

“Where did you get these?” I asked, although my voice sounded strangely distant even to my own ears.

“They’re spreading online, sir.”

I barely heard him because I had already taken the phone back and started scrolling through the photographs.

There were more, showing them in different places and on different days, but the man remained the same, and so did the woman.

Ophelia.

My Ophelia.

The woman I had chosen.

The woman I had divorced my wife for.

The woman I had convinced myself had finally changed, wtf!

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