The Face of Revenge

Chapter 1: The Breaking Point

The door slammed shut behind Damon.

I stood frozen in the middle of the living room, still clutching my phone like a lifeline. The last message I sent blinked unread on the screen.

He really left.

He really said it.

"I love Vivienne. I can't do this anymore."

Vivienne. His ex.

His first love.

Her name struck me like a blow to the chest.

I knew her—at least, I thought I did. She was the woman who had always lingered at the edges of my world, the one Damon never spoke of with any fondness, but whose shadow was always there. He mentioned her, but never with affection, only in passing, like a ghost he claimed to have left behind.

"Ancient history, Elise. Don't dig into something that's already dead," he'd said once, brushing it off with a half-smile, pressing a kiss to my forehead like that would erase the unease curling in my gut.

But there were moments I couldn't shake. Times when the name slipped from his lips softer than it should have, the edges of his emotions betraying him.

I remember one night, years ago, we'd been talking about stupid childhood dreams when he grew quiet, staring at the ceiling like he was somewhere else.

"You ever think about your first love?" I asked, half-laughing, tracing shapes on his chest.

He hesitated—just a second, but long enough. "Sometimes," he said. His voice was gentle. Almost... sad. "Not because I want it back. It's just... you don't forget the first time you thought it was forever."

I wanted to ask if he meant Vivienne. But I didn't. I didn't want to hear the answer.

Instead, I kissed him to shut the silence up, to bury the fear.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The memory hit like a punch: Damon, back in high school, with Vivienne by his side. They had been magnetic—fiery, reckless, untouchable. Everyone saw it. Everyone knew.

And me?

I had been a shadow. A nobody, too scared to even stand in their light.

I told myself it meant nothing. Vivienne was the model, the shining comet who had burned through his life and left only ash behind. Surely, she was no longer a threat. She couldn't be.

God, I should have known better.

They had a fire between them, something wild and hungry. Everyone could see it. No one could touch it.

I stood at the edges of the dance floor that night at the senior ball, watching them spin in circles, lost in their own world.

"They're like gravity," my friend Isla whispered beside me. "They always find their way back to each other."

I laughed it off then, hiding the sting in my chest.

I was never part of that world. I was the shy girl tucked into corners, clutching books to her chest like shields. Vivienne was the sun. And I was in the dark, barely noticed, never invited into their light.

Damon had told me once, much later, about their relationship.

"It was toxic," he said, sitting across from me at a coffee shop, hands wrapped around his mug. "We fought like hell. Loved harder. Hated harder. It wasn't healthy, Elise. We would've destroyed each other."

"But you loved her," I said quietly.

He flinched, just a little.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But not the way I love you. You're my calm after the storm."

At the time, those words felt like enough. They had to be enough.

But somewhere deep inside, I think I always knew the truth: You can love a calm sea, but you never forget the hurricane.

Even when we were together, even when we built a life, there were whispers in the back of my mind. Doubts I shoved down so deep they became a part of me.

Was I truly his choice… Or just what was left after the fire burned out?

When Vivienne left to chase her career overseas, Damon tried to move forward. We moved forward.

I clung to the belief that he had chosen me freely. That he wasn't looking back.

"She was my past," Damon said once, when I found a photo of her tucked away in an old shoebox. "You're my forever."

And like the fool I was, I believed him.

I wanted to believe him so badly that I ignored the way his smile never quite reached his eyes when he said her name. Ignored the nights he would stare a little too long at nothing at all, lost in a memory he wouldn't share.

I told myself it didn't matter. I was the one he proposed to. I was the one he wanted to marry.

"I don't want anyone else, Elise," he'd murmured against my skin one night, holding me tighter, almost desperately. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

God, he said it so beautifully.

So believably.

And now…

Now he was gone.

Now he was back in the arms of the woman he once called a mistake but never truly let go.

Vivienne wasn't a ghost. She was the unfinished story he never had the courage to end.

And me? I was just the intermission.

The couch caught my hip as I stumbled. I dropped onto it, numb, my phone still buzzing in my hand.

New message.

Vivienne.

My stomach dropped. My thumb hovered—and clicked.

A photo filled the screen. Damon, smiling in a way he hadn't smiled at me in months, arms wrapped around her. Date stamp: two weeks ago.

"No," I breathed, shaking my head. "No, no, no."

That was right after we finalized the wedding venue. Right after he told me he couldn't wait to spend forever with me.

A choked sound ripped from my throat. I dropped the phone like it burned, hugging my arms around my waist to keep myself from falling apart.

The memories came rushing back—the late nights planning the wedding, the whispered promises, the way he held me when I doubted myself.

The night he knelt on one knee and told me, "You're my home."

Lies. Everything was a lie.

Had he already made his choice long before I knew there was even a choice to be made?

The phone buzzed again.

I wiped my eyes roughly, snatching it up.

Damon.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but Vivienne is the one I want. I can’t keep doing this. I hope you understand. Goodbye."

Goodbye.

I laughed—sharp, bitter. "Goodbye?" I said aloud. "That's it?"

After everything—after the promises, the plans, the life we were supposed to have together—goodbye was all he could give me?

I wanted to scream. Throw something. Smash the framed photos lining the shelves.

Instead, I just sat there. Shaking. Hollow.

I pressed my palms to my temples, forcing myself to breathe.

But the past wouldn't leave me alone.

I remembered Damon telling me, long ago, about how he and Vivienne had burned too hot, how their love was a storm that destroyed everything in its path.

"We were young. Stupid. You're different, Elise. You're steady. You're my future."

A future he just tossed away like it was nothing.

Maybe it had always been Vivienne.

Maybe I had only been a placeholder, a safer bet while he waited for her to come back.

The sunlight through the window was harsh and cruel, painting the room in sharp, unforgiving lines. I stumbled toward it, pressing my forehead against the glass.

Outside, life continued as if the ground hadn't just crumbled under my feet. People walked by with grocery bags, children laughed, a dog barked somewhere down the block.

I pressed my fists against the glass until my knuckles turned white.

How could the world keep moving while mine had stopped?

The day we picked out my engagement ring flashed through my mind. How Damon had smiled, so wide and bright, when he slipped the simple diamond band onto my finger.

"Perfect," he'd said. "You're perfect."

Tears blurred my vision.

Had he already been thinking of someone else even then? Was every smile, every kiss, every promise just a carefully crafted lie?

A tremor rolled through me. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself, but the weight of betrayal was too heavy.

I slumped to the floor.

I don't know how long I sat there. Long enough for the sun to slip lower in the sky, for the shadows in the room to stretch long and thin, swallowing everything.

The silence pressed against my skin. Deafening. Smothering.

I picked up the phone again. My finger hovered over Damon's contact.

I wanted to call him. Scream at him. Beg him to come back.

But some small, broken part of me knew it would be useless.

If he loved me, he wouldn't have left.

Not like this.

A sob built in my chest, hot and sharp, but I swallowed it down.

I wouldn't give him that power. Not anymore.

I forced myself to stand, legs trembling.

The engagement ring still glinted on my finger, mocking me. I ripped it off and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a soft clink and fell somewhere behind the couch.

Good riddance.

My chest heaved as I sucked in a ragged breath.

I walked to the mirror by the door, staring at the stranger reflected back at me.

Eyes red. Hair a tangled mess. Face pale and hollow.

Was this who I had become?

A girl so easily discarded?

"No," I said out loud, my voice rough and unfamiliar. "No."

I wouldn't be his second choice. I wouldn't let this destroy me.

I wiped my face with trembling hands, squaring my shoulders.

Somewhere deep inside, buried under all the hurt, was a spark. A small, stubborn ember that refused to go out.

He chose her. Let him have her.

But me? I would choose myself.

Even if it meant walking through hell to do it.