Chapter 3: Breaking point

~Clarissa’s POV~

The words echoed in the sudden silence, each one a hammered blow shattering the last fragments of my world.

The engagement was off. My love, my future, my very identity, all obliterated in a single, brutal moment.

I stared at him, at the man who once promised to love me forever, who kissed my scars and held me through my lowest moments, now cradling my treacherous sister, and the years we had spent together, the dreams we had built, felt like nothing more than a cruel joke.

Now he looked at me like a stranger.

An intruder. An infested rodent to be eradicated.

“What?” I say, my voice a whisper, struggling to fathom the situation unfolding before me.

“B….but she admitted it!” I cried. “Eric, she just said she drugged me! She set everything up!”

But despite my pleas, his eyes didn’t soften. Not even a little.

This couldn't be happening.

Not like this.

“Eric”. I shrieked. “Are you really choosing her over me? Your fiancee?”

“Ex fiancee” he immediately retorted coldly, as my already shattered heart plummeted from his renounce.

“She’s not the liar here”. he bit back. “Leave Clarissa, before I have to drag you out myself”.

My breathe hitched in my throat, and something inside me died in that moment. Now realizing I was fighting a loosing game.

Years of love. Memories. Laughter.

Gone like smoke.

And without another word, I turned and stormed away, pushing through the hallway, with my heels clicking furiously across the marble floors, out the door, out of his life.

Out of a lie I thought was love.

**********************

Bursting out through the towering doors, was when I realized the sun had set, as darkness stretched all over.

The night was cold.

As rain, heavy and relentless, poured down, mirroring the torrent of tears that blurred my vision. Pelting my skin like needles as I wandered the empty streets of the city, the tulle of my once beautiful wedding gown, heavy, soaked, and clinging to my trembling frame.

My veil clung to my face. My heels snapped on the pavement until I kicked them off and continued barefoot, each step numb and raw.

I couldn't flag down a taxi, neither could I book an Uber to take me home, since I wasn't with my phone or had any money on me. After I had practically fled from the church empty handed and without a thought.

My mind was a whirlwind of agonizing revelations: Eric's betrayal, Mia's calculated cruelty, and the devastating truth about my own parentage. Each discovery was a fresh wound, twisting in my gut.

Everything hurt.

I had nothing. No family. No fiance. No identity that I could call my own.

Just pain. And the dull ache in my stomach from starving myself for weeks just to fit into the dress that now hung on me like a joke.

The wind howled.

I didn’t know where I was going, Or if I even cared.

All I knew was I needed to see someone……anyone…..who wouldn’t look at me like a disgrace.

Somehow, through the blur of tears and the haze of shock, I recognized the familiar street.

Diane's place. My only refuge.

I dragged my exhausted body to her doorstep and fumbled for the bell.

Seconds passed. And then the door swung open, and Diane's face, initially lit with surprise and a welcoming smile, quickly contorted with alarm as she took in my drenched, disheveled state.

“Clarissa? Oh my God! What happened?" she gasped, her voice laced with concern.

But the words never formed on my lips. The world tilted, then spun, and the crushing weight of everything finally overwhelmed me.

Diane’s voice was the last thing I heard before my knees gave out, collapsing into her arms.

And then darkness wrapped around me like a cloak.

***********************

“That low life,cheating bastard!”.

Diane's voice, usually a soothing balm, cracked through the calm morning air like thunder as I lay half awake on her couch, wrapped in a blanket, still in yesterday’s oversized hoodie and unwashed hair. I blinked, disoriented, as she paced the living room like a lioness ready to maul someone.

“I swear to God, if I ever see Eric again, I’ll shove those wedding photos he never took with you right up his sorry ass!”

Her phone was clenched in one hand, trembling with rage.

I didn’t have to ask why. I had told her everything the night before between choking sobs, cups of water, and the sting of fresh betrayal bleeding from my soul.

“And Mia!”, Diane spat the name like poison. “That treacherous snake. I never liked her anyway.”

She turned to me, her arms flailing with indignation.

“You remember last Christmas when she accidentally spilled red wine on your white designer jumpsuit and said it was because she tripped? Please! The bitch was smiling the whole time. And don’t even get me started on how she tried to flirt with that intern you brought to brunch two years ago……the gay one, might I add.”

I gave a weak, breathless laugh. It almost hurt to find anything remotely funny.

“God, Clarissa…” Diane’s voice softened as she dropped onto the couch beside me, pulling me into a gentle hug.

“You didn’t deserve any of this. I mean it. Not one damn thing. But you can’t let them win by breaking you.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I just feel… hollow.”

She smoothed my matted hair back. “I know, honey. But this? This isn’t the end. It’s just a messy, godawful chapter in a much bigger story. And trust me, the plot twist coming for you? Muah…..Chef’s kiss. But you’ve gotta hold on. You’ve gotta fight.” Diane lovingly encouraged.

I wanted to believe her. I really did.

But a week passed, and all I became was a ghost in Diane’s apartment. The world outside felt hostile, judging. I’d seen the headlines online, even when I tried to avoid them:

“BRIDE ABANDONED AT ALTAR FOR SISTER!” and “SOCIETY WEDDING ENDS IN SHOCKING BETRAYAL!”.

Every news alert, every whisper on social media felt like a dagger.

I didn’t go outside. I didn’t answer calls. My phone buzzed relentlessly for the first three days, then slowly, pitifully, it stopped. People moved on.

But I stayed stuck.

I stopped eating. I drank instead. Finding solace in the red wines Diane stacked in her kitchen cabinet…..a quiet escape, a temporary numbing of the relentless ache in my chest. Each sip brought a fleeting sense of peace, a fuzzy blanket over the raw edges of my reality.

Diane tried. God, she tried. But there’s only so much someone else can do when you’re already drowning.

Part of me, a small, desperate part, clung to a ridiculous hope. I’d check my phone obsessively, refreshing my notifications, imagining a text from Eric. A message saying he was wrong, that he needed me back, that he was sorry. A delusional whisper in the back of my mind told me he’d realize his mistake, that this was all a terrible misunderstanding.

But that message never came.

What did come was a notification.

I blinked at my screen, expecting another pitiful reminder from P*******t about wedding ideas I no longer needed, or maybe another dry post from an aunt telling me to “stay strong.”

But instead, a fresh sting of pain ripped through me when a social media notification popped up.

It was from Eric’s profile.

He obviously hadn't blocked me yet.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

But I did.

It was a photo. And another. And another. All of him and Mia. Laughing. Holding hands. And what twisted the knife of betrayal even deeper was the location tag: “On a yacht in the Maldives”, the same private island we had painstakingly chosen for our honeymoon.

He wore the linen shirt I bought him. She wore the designer swimwear I had once modeled and sent him a picture of, asking if he thought it was sexy enough.

The caption read:

“When love surprises you in unexpected ways #Bliss #ForeverBeginsNow”.

I scrolled.

Jet skiing.

Candlelight dinners on the beach.

Horseback rides through the surf.

Every single thing from my itinerary. The one I had curated for months in a shared G***le Doc titled “Forever Begins Here.”

They were living the honeymoon I planned. Together. My dreams, was now their reality.

It hit me like a freight train, this wasn't a nightmare I could wake from. This was real.

He wasn’t coming back.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever.

The realization landed with the force of a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me. The alcohol no longer brought solace, only a bitter taste in my mouth.

I dropped the phone onto the bed like it had burned me. The ache in my chest turned molten. Something inside me snapped, but not like before, not in pain.

In rage. Cold, focused rage.

“No more crying,” I whispered to the mirror as I stared at my sunken eyes, the dull shadow of the woman I used to be.

“No more waiting.”

And that’s when it popped up.

A seductive ad, bold against the pale light of my phones screen:

“Need to feel again? Escape heartbreak. Find your pleasure. Join ECSTASY. Your Discreet Hookup App for Adults.”

D******d Now.

My thumb hovered over it.

A small voice inside me said, Don’t do it. That this wasn’t me.

But another voice…..a reckless curiosity, a desire to feel anything different, louder, darker asked.

Why the hell not?

He moved on without a second thought.

Maybe it was time I did the same.

Maybe it was time Clarissa Jones stopped breaking…. and started burning.