Chapter 3

I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt, biting back every scream I wanted to let out. I couldn't wait to tear these two cheating bastards apart. Ryan and my own best friend Oliver, but at the same time, I had this sick feeling twisted in my gut because I knew they were gaslighting me, trying to twist my mind around. They kept acting like this whole "open relationship" nonsense was totally normal, something everyone did these days, and that I was the crazy, unreasonable one for not just smiling and accepting it like some doormat. They painted it as if I was overreacting, blowing everything out of proportion, but unluckily for them, I wasn't some fool who could be manipulated that easily. I saw right through their lies, and it made my blood boil even hotter.

I glared straight at Ryan, my finger jabbing the air like a dagger pointed right at his lying face. "This is NOT over yet, you useless bastard!" I spat the words out with all the venom I had pent up inside. "I will divorce you, I swear it! Just wait till I serve you those papers and watch your world crumble!" My voice echoed off the walls of our apartment, sharp and unyielding, even as my heart pounded like a drum in my chest.

Then I darted my eyes over to Oliver, my best friend since we were kids, and oh God, the sight of her standing there half-naked hit me like a punch to the soul. It caused this terrible, aching heartache that spread through my whole body, making it hard to even breathe. I truly cared for her deep down, more than anything in the world, like the sister I never had but always wished for. I knew better than anyone that Oliver had suffered the most back when her family hit absolute rock bottom. Oliver cried every single day and night, her little face streaked with tears when she finally realized her family was ruined forever after her father cheated on her mother without a shred of remorse. They eventually divorced soon after, and both parents married different people. Her father never wanted anything to do with her. And her mother’s new husband was molesting her.

I convinced her to pack her bags and follow me to Sydney, to chase her dreams at any university she liked, no matter the cost. I chipped in as much as I could from my savings. I even helped cover part of her tuition upfront, making sure she could graduate with less debt weighing her down, free from the unforgiving chains of student loans that trapped so many people for decades. On top of that, I gave her a generous monthly allowance whenever I could spare it, to ensure she had a comfortable life in the city and nice clothes, good food, fun outings with friends, whatever she needed without a worry. And even after she graduated and stepped into the real world, I let her live in the apartment right next to mine and Ryan's, just a door away. It was meant to be perfect: she could pop over anytime to help with the laundry, chop vegetables for dinner, or keep me company while I was away at work, grinding through long hours to build our future. We shared everything—secrets, laughs, late-night talks and I trusted her completely. Little did I know, it would all turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life, a decision that came back to stab me in the back when I needed her loyalty the most.

I stared wordlessly at Oliver, searching her eyes for some spark of the best friend I once knew, the one who'd been by my side through thick and thin, but she just scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes like I was the one being ridiculous.

"What? You're going to scold me now? Geez, Christy, don't act like a crazy bitch, will you? This is no big deal, stop embarrassing yourself and seriously you are beginning to look pathetic with that face you are making. Lighten up!"

Her words hit me like a slap across the face from the person I trusted most, and I choked up, fighting back the hot tears burning in my throat. It took every ounce of strength to steel my heart against the betrayal, but I yelled back at her anyway, my voice cracking just a little. "You're going to regret this, you ungrateful bitch! Mark my words, you'll see what you've thrown away!" I couldn't stand there another second, surrounded by their smug faces and the stench of their lies.

I turned around sharply and strutted confidently toward the front door, my chin held high, refusing to let them see me break. I could feel their eyes boring into my back, probably smirking and waiting for me to crumble, to fall apart in a heap of sobs right there on the spot. But I pulled together all my courage, every last shred of pride I had left, and kept walking, one determined step after another. I grabbed my bag from the floor where I'd dropped it in the heat of the fight, yanked the door open with a forceful tug, and stepped out without looking back.

Ryan stayed silent until he saw me actually leaving for real, his voice finally breaking through with a hint of fake concern.

"Where are you going?" he called out, panic creeping into his tone for the first time.

I didn't bother stopping or even slowing down to reply, I was done with his games. "Anywhere but here," I shot back coldly over my shoulder. "I feel sick just looking at you two disgusting cheaters!"

And with that, I slammed the door behind me so hard the frame rattled, the sound echoing down the hallway.

I continued walking through the corridor with as much confidence as I could muster, my head high, pretending I was unbreakable even as my world had been shattered. But once I was almost at the elevator at the far end of the corridor, far from their door, my legs suddenly gave out beneath me, betraying me completely in my moment of vulnerability. I tripped over my own feet, stumbling forward uncontrollably. "Ah!" I cried out as I fell face-first onto the cold, hard floor, the impact jarring my bones and sending a sharp pain shooting through my knees, elbows, and palms.

I grimaced in agony, biting my lip to stifle a whimper, and tried to scramble up quickly before anyone, especially them could poke their heads out and witness my embarrassing state of defeat. As I pushed with my hands to prop myself up, shaking from the fall, I noticed a single drop of tear splashing onto the floor, wetting the tiles right in front of my blurred eyes. "W-Why did I cry?" I whispered to myself in utter disbelief, my voice trembling with confusion and hurt. "Why do I have to shed even one tear for a useless bastard like Ryan and my equally useless former best friend Oliver? They're not even worth a single drop—not after stabbing me in the back like this!"

I tried wiping my tears away furiously with the back of my hand, over and over, scrubbing at my face like I could erase the pain, but they kept falling relentlessly, streaming down my cheeks and blurring my vision completely. So I decided to just ignore them, suck it up no matter how much it burned, gather every bit of strength I had left scattered on that floor, and force myself shakily to my feet. I couldn't keep up that fearless, confident demeanor anymore—it was shattered into a million pieces, just like my heart and every trust I'd ever placed in them. The wounds ran too deep, too raw and fresh, to pretend otherwise for even a second longer.

I walked awkwardly toward the elevator, leaning heavily on the wall several times along the dimly lit corridor to steady my wobbly legs and avoid collapsing again in a pathetic heap. In a fit of raw frustration and desperation, I kicked off my high heels, letting them clatter and skid across the floor as I went barefoot, my stockinged feet padding softly and silently against the cold tiles until I finally reached the elevator doors, gasping for breath.

I stepped inside the elevator as it descended slowly to the lobby, the mechanical hum the only sound breaking the heavy silence of my racing thoughts. I didn't even know where to go next. no plan, no safe haven in sight, but all I knew deep in my bones was that I wanted, no, needed to get as far away as possible from Ryan and Oliver, from that toxic apartment that now reeked of betrayal and broken bonds. Just the mere thought of ever sharing space with those two useless fuckers again, laughing together like nothing happened, made my stomach churn and twist with violent nausea, like I might actually vomit right there from the disgust.

Thankfully, the lobby was completely empty when I passed through it, silent and deserted under the fluorescent lights maybe because it was a Friday night in the heart of Sydney and everyone else had already headed out for the evening, to wild parties pulsing with music, romantic dinners under starry skies, or their own carefree engagements, laughing and living their best lives while mine lay in smoking ruins. It was only me who never had any real fun anymore, not before I stupidly married Ryan and let him drain the joy from my days, and especially not after, when our life turned into a monotonous grind of endless work shifts, petty arguments, and now this ultimate, soul-crushing heartbreak. I pushed through the heavy main doors and stepped out into the cool, bustling night air of Sydney, the distant hum of traffic and city lights greeting me like indifferent strangers.

As I kept wandering aimlessly through the neon-lit streets, my mind replaying the betrayal on an endless loop, I caught my reflection in a store's glass pane and almost laughed bitterly at the wreck staring back at me. My eyes were red and puffy from crying non-stop, swollen like I'd been punched; my eye bags were darker than ever before from all those exhausting late nights at the office, propping myself up on coffee and sheer willpower. My once-neat hair was a tangled, unkempt mess, my blazer wrinkled and askew from the chaos, and my shoes were long gone, left abandoned in the hallway like discarded pieces of my old life. I was a total miserable sight, broken and exposed under the streetlights.

I scoffed at my reflection, a hollow, self-mocking sound escaping my lips.

"Heh, I guess their gaslighting worked on me after all. Look at me now—I look exactly like the crazy bitch they accused me of being." The irony stung, but it fueled a spark of anger deep inside.

As I kept on walking, feet aching on the rough sidewalk, lost in the whirlwind of hurt and rage, I saw a taxi approaching slowly through the sparse late-night traffic. I squinted my tired eyes against the headlights and noticed the familiar license plate number as it drew nearer—the same one that had driven me back to my apartment just half an hour earlier, before my entire universe imploded. The taxi pulled to a gentle stop right in front of me, and the driver stuck his head out the window, his face creased with genuine concern under the dashboard glow. "Miss, are you okay?" he asked kindly, his voice cutting through the night. "I saw you walking alone like this. This place isn't safe at night for anyone, especially not looking the way you do."

I blinked a few times, processing his words through the fog of my tears and shock, before nodding numbly and pulling open the back door. I slid into the backseat, the leather cool against my skin, and stayed silent for a long while, staring blankly out the window at the passing city lights. The taxi driver shifted nervously in his seat, glancing at me in the rearview mirror, but he didn't say a word at first—he just let me sit there, breathing heavily, giving me space to collect the shattered pieces of myself. I could tell he was worried, probably thinking he might be carrying a crazy lady who'd snapped into a full manic episode under the cover of night. After all, this same professional, well-maintained woman he'd driven just half an hour ago now looked like a crazed, disheveled mess—one you definitely wouldn't want to mess with or get too close to in the dark streets of Sydney.

"M-Miss, where should I take you?" he finally asked hesitantly, his voice gentle but edged with caution.

"Just drive," I said coldly, my tone flat and distant as I met his eyes in the mirror. "Take me as far from here as possible.