The Girl He Shouldn't Have Broken(Short story)

Aria’s pov

“Mrs. Black-to-be.” The receptionist smiled at me as I stepped into the penthouse.

The soon-to-be Mrs. Ethan Black.

I used to like how it sounded. Now… I wasn’t so sure.

Still, I smiled, the same soft, graceful smile everyone expected from me. Composed, polite, sweet, and dare I say, timid. Ethan often said that was what he loved most about me, my calm.

Boarded the elevator to his floor.

I held his missing tie in one hand as I hurried through the corridor towards his penthouse office. He’d left it behind this morning, probably too distracted by the chaos of the day.

The engagement gala was tonight, and I wanted everything perfect. For him. For us.

I told myself that was why I was nervous—that the pounding in my chest was excitement, not unease.

When I reached his office, I noticed the dor wasn’t completely closed. Strange. Ethan always locked it when he was in meetings. I hesitated, raising my hand to knock—when I heard a woman’s voice float through the small gap.

Love. Sweet. Familiar.

“You said you’d end it after the proposal.”

My breath caught.

Then came Ethan’s voice rough and quiet.

“It’s complicated.”

Something inside me stilled. The kind of stillness that you feel before a storm.

I told myself I was misunderstanding. Maybe it was work. Maybe it was some project conversation. But deep down, a cold certainly began to bloom in my chest. The kind you can’t explain or deny.

I pushed the door open.

And the world shifted.

Selene, my cousin stood there, her long hair loose, her blouse half-unbuttoned, that unmistakable smirk on her lips. Ethan’s hand rested on her hip, casual, familiar, intimate.

Time slowed.

For a heartbeat, none of us moved. Ethan froze. Selene’s eyes met mine, glinting with the smallest trace of triumph.

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning everything else out.

The tie slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft sound.

“Aria..” Ethan’s voice cracked as he stepped forward. “It’s not what you think-“

I let out a soft, breathless laugh. It sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

“So this is what forever looks like?”

He flinched. Selene said nothing, just held the victory look.

My legs felt heavy, but they moved. Step after step, away from that office, away from that room where love had just died. I walked down the hall, ignoring the curious glances, the greetings, the noise. It all blurred into meaningless sound.

Inside, everything was collapsing. My chest ached, but no tears came. I wanted to cry, to scream, to ask why, but even that felt pointless. There was no explanation that could make what I saw untrue.

He’d told me I was his home. His calm. His forever.

And yet, there he was—finding comfort in someone else’s arms while mine still waited for him.

By the time I reached the elevator, my reflection in the glass doors stopped me cold. My makeup was perfect. My hair flawless. My smile long gone.

I looked… composed. Unbreakable.

But inside, something had shattered so quietly that even I almost didn’t notice.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside, pressed the lobby button, and watched the floor numbers descend.

Memories flickered—our first date, his late-night calls, his promises whispered against my hair. Every one of them burned now, sharp and mocking. I used to think love was about patience—about holding on even when things got hard. But now, I wondered if that patience was just another name for denial.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened to the same lobby I’d walked through a hundred times before. But today, it felt different—colder, foreign, like I no longer belonged here.

I walked out of Black Corporation, my heels striking against marble, each step heavier than the last. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.

Behind me was a man who had everything—money, power, success—and somehow still found a way to lose me.

Outside, the air hit me hard. The city was alive—cars passing, people laughing, life continuing as if mine hadn’t just cracked open.

I wanted to breathe, but the air felt too sharp. So I did the only thing I could. I kept walking. Away from the glass tower that had been my world. Away from the man I thought I’d marry. Away from the version of myself that would’ve stayed, begged, forgiven.

No more pretending.

No more patience.

Just silence—and the sound of my own heart learning how to beat without him.