Chapter 2- Breaking Point

He didn’t listen. His breathing grew heavy as he tried to climb over, pinning me against the seat. “Just let me show you, Evie. Please—”

He begins to force himself on me.

Pure panic shot through me. I twisted hard, bringing my knee up between us. It connected with his stomach. He grunted and pulled back just enough for me to shove him with both hands. My palm cracked across his face in a sharp slap that echoed inside the car.

The sound shocked us both.

Alex froze, hand flying to his cheek. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Evie… what the hell?”

I fumbled with the seatbelt, hands shaking so badly I could barely unclip it. “In your life, don't you ever touch me like that again!” My voice cracked but I didn’t care. “Get the fuck away from me!”

I shoved the door open and practically fell out onto the roadside. Cool night air hit my face. My legs felt weak, but I started walking fast down the quiet street, away from his car.

“Evie, wait!” Alex scrambled out after me, slamming his door. His footsteps pounded behind me. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I lost control for a second. Please turn around and talk to me, we can still work it out.”

I kept walking, arms wrapped around myself. Tears burned my eyes but I blinked them back hard. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re done.”

He caught up, grabbing my arm gently. I yanked away.

“Done with what?” His voice sounded desperate now. “The fake engagement? Evie, I love you. I’ve loved you for years. Tonight I just wanted you to see it too, I didn't mean to go that far. Please!"

I spun around to face him. Streetlight caught the red mark on his cheek where I’d slapped him. “Love? This isn’t love, Alex. This is you crossing every line we agreed on. I trusted you. I came to you because Mum was suffocating me with her fears about me ending up alone like her. And you used that to try and force yourself on me?”

He stepped closer, eyes pleading. “I was stupid. The pressure of pretending every day… it got to me. But we can fix this. We can make it real. Your mum already sees us as perfect together, I'm saying you should give me a chance. You will definitely love me too.”

“No.” My voice came out cold and final. “The fake engagement is over. Right now. Tell Mum whatever you want. Say I cheated, say we fought, I don’t care. Just stay the fuck away from me.”

Alex looked like I’d hit him again. “Evie, please. Think about everything we have been through even before we started this fake engagement, I used to be your closet friend. Don’t throw away seven months because of one mistake."

“One mistake?” I laughed bitterly. “You tried to force me in your car. That’s not a mistake. That’s you showing who you really are when the acting stops.”

He stood there, silent for a long moment. The night air felt heavy between us. Finally, he nodded slowly, shoulders dropping. “Okay. I’ll tell her it’s over. But I’m sorry, Evie. I really am.”

I didn’t reply. I just turned and kept walking until I reached a main road. My phone shook in my hand as I ordered a taxi. When it arrived, I climbed in and gave the driver the address for The Sapphire Lounge. I needed noise. Lights. Anything to drown out the mess in my head.

By the time I walked into the bar, my hands had stopped shaking but the anger and hurt still burned inside. I found a stool at the far end and ordered a double gin and tonic. Then another. The alcohol hit fast, softening the sharp edges of what had just happened.

Long night?” a deep voice asked from the stool beside me.

I turned my head. The man was older than me, maybe early forties, with sharp features and dark hair that fell just right. His eyes caught mine, steady and curious. Expensive watch on his wrist. He looked like money and trouble mixed together.

“You could say that,” I replied, keeping my tone light. “I need somewhere to clear my head.”

He signalled the bartender for a whiskey. “Mind if I join you? Looks like you could use the company. Or not. Your call.”

I studied him for a moment. Confident without being pushy. Handsome in that way that made my stomach flip even through the anger still simmering. “Sure. Why not.”

We talked. Easy at first. He said his name was Mark. Asked about my night without prying too deep. I gave him pieces, enough to vent without spilling everything. The gin loosened my tongue, and soon I was laughing at his dry comments about bad dates and worse decisions.

“You seem like someone who doesn’t take shit,” he said, that small smirk playing on his lips. His knee brushed mine under the bar. Warmth spread through me.

“Today I didn’t,” I admitted. “Feels good and scary, but mostly good.”

Another round came. Then another. The room softened around the edges. My frustrations with Mum, with Alex, with the whole fake life I’d built, they faded a little with each sip. Mark listened like he actually cared. His voice had this calm power to it, and when he laughed at something I said, it pulled a real smile from me.

Hours slipped by, or maybe it was less. Time blurred nicely. At some point his hand rested near mine on the bar. Close. Tempting.

“You know,” I said, finishing my drink in a drunkened state, “tonight I just want to feel… something else.”

Mark’s eyes darkened with interest. “Careful what you ask for.”

I met his gaze. The heat between us built fast. No pressure. Just this moment.

“Another?” he asked, nodding at my empty glass.

I shook my head. “I’ve had enough here. Maybe somewhere quieter?”

His smile turned knowing. “A room’s upstairs. If you’re sure.”

I didn't know when we left the bar together, his hand lightly on my back as we headed for the lifts. Whatever came next, wasn't done with my true intentions.