Chapter 1

Ixora's POV

I pushed open the front door and entered the house, shutting the door behind me quietly. Keys jingled in my palm, and the weight of two shopping bags holding onto my fingers was oppressive. I let out a sigh. It had been a long day. All I wanted to do was curl up with Christopher and watch something dumb with him.

But something wasn't right. I can feel it in my bones.

The house felt too quiet, too still. I started walking down the hall, light footsteps on the floor. Then I heard it—sounds from far away coming from our bedroom.

I first thought it was a video. Maybe he was watching another one that was really loud. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. But the closer I came to the bedroom door, the louder the sounds got. A muffled giggle. A soft moan. The squeak of something on the bed.

I stopped.

My hand also stopped mid-air, right above the bedroom door handle.

No. I shook my head. He would not.

I'm sure he was watching p**n or something.

But my stomach turned. A knot of fear entered my belly. My fingers were trembling slightly as I went to take hold of the knob. I told myself I was paranoid. It was probably a movie. He liked those stupid prank videos, the ones where they fake-moaned to scare people. That had to be what it was.

But a part of me did not believe so.

I slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

And there he was.

Christopher. My fiancé. On the bed. Shirtless. Pimping into some girl hard like his life depended on it. A girl. Her face hidden in the white duvet, but her body unmistakably there—arms spread, blonde hair spilling out like a shadow on the pillow.

He stopped. So did I.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. It was like Oxygen just stopped working and the breeze got stuck.

The bags slipped from my hands and clattered onto the floor. An apple rolled across the wooden floorboards and bounced into the wall.

Christopher's head jerked in my direction. His eyes bulged.

"Ixora—" he started, scrambling off the girl. "Wait—baby, I—this isn't—"

I whirled round and fled.

My heart was pounding in my ears. I had no idea where I was going. I just wanted out of that room, out of that scene burned into my mind. I yanked open the front door and out into the frontyard, the cold air slapping my face.

"Ixora!" I heard him behind me. "Please! Wait!"

I hurried on. My vision was spotty, and my chest throbbed. My feet hit the earth in great strides as I ran for the big gate. I wished I was already away.

He overtook me part way down the grounds. He caught hold of my arm, but with gentleness, as if I were a crystal glass that might break.

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked, fighting him free.

"Please," he breathed. "Listen, please."

"Christopher, what can you say?" I spat out, choking on my own words. "I saw you. Her. In our bed."

He scrunched up his face. "It was an accident. I promise, I did not mean to—"

"You didn't mean to?" I laughed harshly. "You just happened to fall into somebody else and your dick just so happened to be inside her?"

No!" he cried in a rush. "I did something wrong. I know I did. I was. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking, I—"

"Don't give me a lame excuse. You weren't drunk just now!" I thundered. "You were sober enough to hide her face!"

He flinched. "I lost my head. I didn't know what to do. I—I swear it was only once. It meant nothing.".

My chest panted. Tears flowed down my cheeks, and I didn't even take the time to brush them away. "It meant something to me, Christopher. How could you so easily shatter my trust in you?""

"Ixora, please. I love you. I know I made a mistake, but don't give up on us. Please. Don't leave me."

I scowled at him. His eyes were wide and beseeching. He looked like he was sincere.

And that made it worse.

Because a part of me still cared for him too.

"I don't think I can trust you anymore," I breathed.

Even if I wish, I could not remain angry with him for long. I remembered the way he supported me, months prior and gave me the love I did not receive even from my own sister when our parents died. He was the only one that never treated me like an omega.

"I'll pay it back. I'll do whatever. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

My throat closed. I wished to scream. I wished to hit him. But I didn't. I stood there, arms wrapped around me, trembling in the breeze.

There was a length of silence, and then I nodded once.

"Let's go in," I said. My voice wasn't my own.

He blinked. "Really?"

I didn't answer. I just walked. He followed after me, but not too close.

When we got back to the house, the front door was open. I went inside first, with no idea what to expect. I was numb, as though floating outside of myself.

Christopher followed me inside into the bedroom.

But when I stepped in, I froze.

The bed was empty.

No sign of the girl. The sheets were slightly rumpled, but the duvet was smoothed. No clothes scattered on the floor. No sound from the bathroom. Nothing.

She was missing.

I turned around slowly, checking the closet, the corners, down the hallway. The window was shut. The front door had never been open when we were out. I would have heard it.

"Where is she?" I asked.

Christopher looked around, confused. "I don't know. She was right there."

"How is she supposed to have gotten away from us without us realizing it?"

"I don't know," he said again. "Maybe she fled during the fight?"

"Through the front? We were standing right outside."

He rubbed his face, clearly trying to figure it out. "Maybe. maybe she snuck out through the back window?"

I approached the little window of the dresser and inspected it. Still locked. Still dusty. Absolutely no movement at all.

"This can't be right," I thought to myself.

She had known this building far too well. She could not have exited that house without me knowing about it. There's only one door, a tunnel through the backyard and there's no way on earth that some random stranger would have known about it. Right?

The house suddenly turned cold. Still. As though something had altered. My flesh prickled. I glanced over at Christopher, but he was as bewildered as I was.

"Ixora," he whispered, "I'm telling you the truth. I have no idea where she vanished. I'm not hiding anything."

I believed him to be truthful.

But I also knew what I had observed.

And I knew that girl did not stroll past us.

Something was off.

I sat on the bed, staring at the duvet. Trying to calm the storm brewing in my chest. Christopher sat facing me, silent.

I didn't know what scared me more—his treachery, or the girl who vanished into thin air.