Breaking Us

The morning light was cruel.

Dante woke early, his movements stiff and mechanical. He dressed in silence, not looking at Cassandra. His jaw was tight, his eyes cold. He was still angry. Still hurt. But he refused to talk about it.

Cassandra watched him from the bed, her heart aching. The silence between them was suffocating. She hated every moment of it.

He reached for his wristwatch. She handed it to him. Their skin brushed—a spark, a jolt. They both reacted. But Dante hid his, pulling away quickly.

He headed for the door.

"Dante."

He stopped.

"I didn't do anything, D." Her voice was raw. "Please."

He listened. But he didn't speak.

"I love you," she cried, tears streaming down her face.

He slipped out the door without looking back.

---

Cassandra's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.

Christopher.

She answered, her voice cold. "Don't call me again."

She hung up before he could respond.

---

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.

Cassandra walked to the dining room for breakfast. Dante's aunt was already there, a cruel smile on her face.

"Well, well," she said. "The little fiancée. I saw you with that man yesterday. In the garden."

Cassandra's heart stopped.

"I told Dante everything. I showed him the pictures." The aunt's voice was sweet, poisonous. "He was devastated, of course. He doesn't trust easily, you know. He's been betrayed before."

Cassandra breathed in, the pieces falling into place. This was the poison. This was why Dante was so cold.

"You should leave him," the aunt continued. "Forget him. You'll only bring him pain."

She stood, smoothing her dress. When she finished, she walked away, leaving Cassandra standing still.

Cassandra's hands trembled. She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. But she wouldn't give his aunt the satisfaction.

She retreated to her room—not Dante's room. She stayed indoors all day, refusing to let anyone see her broken.

---

Cassandra stared at the ceiling, her mind churning.

She needed to tell Dante the truth. Needed to explain about Christopher. About his aunt. About everything.

The driver tried to stop her. "It's not safe, miss. I don't think Mr. Moretti would want you to—"

"I don't care," she said firmly. "I need to see him."

The driver hesitated, then nodded. "I'll take you."

---

Dante's office was cold. Glass and steel.

Cassandra walked into the building, her heart pounding. She needed to see him. Needed to explain.

And then she saw her.

Isabella.

Walking out of the building.

Cassandra's heart stopped. He's entertaining his ex. While I was broken at home, he was with her.

She reached Dante's office. The secretary let her in. But at the door, she hesitated.

Should she go in? Did she even want to?

The door opened. A staff member revealed her. He waited until she entered, then stepped out and closed the door.

Cassandra stood in the middle of the office, facing Dante. His eyes were cold, guarded.

"I saw your ex," she began, her voice tight. "You should explain why she was here."

"I have nothing to explain to you," he replied, his voice flat.

Tension rose between them. The air was thick, suffocating.

Then she heard it. Under his breath. Quiet. But clear.

"This isn't even a real relationship."

Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

He didn't answer. He looked away.

"I see why your aunt..." Cassandra stopped herself. She was too hurt, too angry. "Never mind. I'll leave this evening."

She stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Dante held his head, staring at the closed door.

He'd spoiled everything.

---

Cassandra walked out of the building, tears streaming down her face.

She didn't know where to go. She just knew she couldn't stay. Couldn't face him. Couldn't face anyone.

She called her grandmother. "Gran, can I come stay with you tonight?"

"Of course, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"I'll explain when I get there."

She hung up and hailed a taxi.

---

Back in his office, Dante stared at the closed door.

His heart ached. He wanted to run after her. Wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go.

But he couldn't move.

His aunt's words echoed in his mind. She was with another man. Embracing him. Kissing his neck.

The photo flashed before his eyes. Cassandra in Christopher's arms.

He'd been betrayed before. By Isabella. By people he trusted. He couldn't go through that again.

But watching Cassandra leave—watching her walk away—hurt more than anything he'd ever felt.

His phone buzzed. He ignored it.

He just sat there, broken.

---

Cassandra arrived at her grandmother's house.

Evelyn opened the door, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"What happened?" Evelyn asked. "Tell me everything."

Cassandra broke down, sobbing against her grandmother's shoulder.

"I love him, Gran. But he doesn't trust me. He thinks I betrayed him."

Evelyn held her tight. "Then you fight for him. If you love him, you don't give up."

Cassandra pulled back, wiping her eyes.

"How? He won't even talk to me."

"Then make him talk." Evelyn's voice was firm. "Don't let fear destroy what you have."

Cassandra nodded slowly. Her grandmother was right.

She wasn't going to give up.