A lover's betrayal

Caitlyn’s POV

I grin dreamily as Sergey strides into the café. I can tell my boyfriend comes from wealth—He exudes effortless wealth, from the crisp designer clothes draped over him to the diamond watch that catches the light with every move.

And then there’s Niko—his abso-fucking-lutely ruthless bodyguard, always a step behind, Sergey’s personal shadow. Appointed by his father to "keep him safe."

From what exactly?

I don’t know. But I’ve never liked Niko. There’s something in his eyes when he looks at Sergey—something too possessive, too intimate. It unsettles me, though I can't explain why.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Sergey murmurs, his lips brushing my forehead as he hands me a bouquet of carnations, their scent flooding my senses. My chest flutters.

God, he’s perfect.

Sergey isn’t just my boyfriend; he’s the kind of man you read about in books, the one who texts you goodnight just to make sure you’re dreaming of him. The one who pulls you into his arms during a rainstorm, whispering something devastatingly poetic, and somehow makes you believe that kind of love was real, like it’s a tangible thing.

He was my fairytale, my dream spun into reality.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to Café Amouré. Can I start you with a drink?” Says the waiter with a smile that is more customer service generic than sincere.

“Yes.” He flashes the waiter a charming smile that makes a faint blush creep up her cheeks as he glances at her nametag. “We’ll both have water as we decide on our order, Lila.”

Normally, I would’ve felt a prickle of jealousy. But not with Serg. I know—without question—that he only has eyes for me. I skim the menu, but nothing really stands out. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I murmur, content just to be here, in his presence.

Serg chuckles. “Of course you will.” He leans back, all charm and grace, and I excuse myself to the restroom.

Once done with my business, I walk out of the lady’s restroom humming lively under my breath until a muffled sound from the storeroom snags my attention.

A crash followed by a low, breathy groan.

Curiosity gnaws in my chest. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, but something about the sound—it isn’t right. I edge closer, fingertips grazing the cool metal handle before pushing the door open.

I blink, my eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. Eventually, shapes start forming, outlines sharpening—until the scene unfolding in front of me registers.

My breath stutters.

Sergey—my golden boy, my perfect, chivalrous, romance-novel prince—is on his knees. His hands grip Niko’s thighs. His mouth… God, his mouth…

His lips stretched around Niko’s cock.

Niko’s head is tipped back, fingers tangled in Sergey’s perfect, never-strand-out-of-place hair.

The air goes thin.

Our world—my world—tilts.

And just like that, my fairytale shatters. No wonder our relationship has always been plain romance.

“What? What the hell is happening here?” My voice rips through the room, a volatile mix of rage, agony, and something dangerously close to disgust.

Realizing they have company, Sergey jerks back, scrambling to his feet. His hair is tousled, his lips swollen. Behind him, Niko shoves himself back together, his expression stoic and unreadable.

“It’s not what it looks like. Well… I… I can explain…” Sergey sputters, looking at me like I’m some alien.

Explain? How does he even begin to explain this?

I step into the room, my face burning, my pulse pounding in my ears. My gaze flickers to Niko, who stares at the floor, deliberately refusing to meet my eyes.

“Caitlyn, let’s discuss this back at our table,” Sergey reaches for me, desperation creeping into his voice.

I recoil“Not what I think?” A humorless laugh rips from my throat. “I think I just walked in on my boyfriend… no, my fucking fairytale on his knees sucking his bodyguard's dick. So please, Sergey, tell me what it might be.”

My eyes burn with tears welling up, but I refuse to let them fall. I turn on my heel, storming out of the room, my feet carrying me toward the exit.

I really fell for him. I fell for the sweet facade, the lies wrapped in grand romantic gestures. But seeing him in that position with his bodyguard in a restaurant’s storage room?

It wrecks me!

Reaching my car, I fling open the door, slide into the driver’s seat, and slam it shut with enough force to make the frame rattle.

My fingers tremble as I grip the steering wheel, taking slow, shallow, and uneven breaths to calm my nerves.

But before I can catch my breath, And then—bang, bang, bang—Sergey appears, palms against my window.

“Cait, please. Just open up.”

For some reason, I unlock the door. Maybe because I need closure. Maybe because the curious stares from passersby make me nervous. Either way, he slips into the passenger seat.

“What exactly does this mean?” I question as soon as he slips into the passenger seat. My voice is raw, my chest aching.

Sergey exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Caitlyn,” sparing me a look so filled with something that almost resembles guilt. “I suppose I haven’t been honest with you enough.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “You think?” My hands curl into fists as my voice cracks, but I don't care. “I have loved you unreservedly, Sergey. Fallen for every stupid, extravagant, over-the-top thing you’ve ever done. And you… you weren’t even afraid to cheat on me? With your fucking bodyguard?” I jab a finger into his chest.

“Stop!” he says, his voice sharp now. “I never cheated on you. The only person I ever cheated on was Niko. You? You were just… a cover. Someone I kept close to hide my sexuality from my father.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from my lungs.

Sergey holds my gaze, unflinching. “I don’t love you, Caitlyn. Hell, I don’t love women. I love men. And I have been using you as a decoy. I was going to tell you, but I was afraid it would break your heart.”

The words hang between us like a heavy cloud. I stare at him, searching his face for some hint of remorse, something that might soften the blow—but I see nothing. My chest tightens, hurt and confusion warring in the pit of my stomach.

Did any of it mean anything to him?

Was I just a prop in his desperate bid for approval?

The world tilts beneath me, the ground slipping beneath me.

Well, Not every day that your boyfriend confesses to using you as a shield against his homophobic father—in a parking lot, of all places.

So… I have wasted years of my life with him for nothing. Everything is coming to an end and I've just been sidelined.

Fuck!