IV: The Betrayal

I was smiling when I left Azrael’s building.

Even after all that — the unsettling opulence, his cryptic smirk, and the way his words coiled around me like chains made of silk — I was smiling. Because I had done it. I had the money. I could finally pay Heather back. I could finally unshackle Theo from her control. Even if I have sold my soul to the devil, it was all worth it  if it would mean that I would help Theo.

I can't wait to see his face when I tell him. He’ll be proud. Maybe he'll even say those three words I haven't heard in a while.

I hugged the small envelope to my chest. It wasn't just money. It was proof. That I would do anything for him. That I believed in us.

I didn’t text him. I wanted to surprise him.

So I went straight to his apartment.

I knew the keypad code — 0617, our anniversary. I pressed it and waited for the familiar buzz, letting myself in like I had a hundred times before. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and citrus, the scent I always associated with him.

I was already practicing the words in my head. “Theo, I got the money. We don’t owe her anything anymore.” And then, if I was brave enough, “I have something else to tell you, too. The truth about who I am.”

I turned the knob.

The first sound I heard was laughter. An awfully familiar sound. Hers.

Heather.

My steps faltered, heart hammering. The door creaked softly as I pushed it open.

And then I saw them.

Theo and Heather. Twisted together on his couch like they’d never been apart. His hand in her hair, her lips on his jaw, and the look on his face — God, the look — it wasn’t discomfort. It wasn’t forced.

It was familiar. As if it was something they normally do and have been doing for a lot of times now.

Everything flashed back into my head. All those canceled plans because Heather had asked him to go with her. All those phone conversations cut short because Heather was calling him. It was the reason why I was desperate to pay Heather back so she could not use his debt as an excuse to make him do whatever the hell she wants. It was the reason why I wanted to free him from it.

I failed to realize that it was possible that Theo was never forced. That he was willing to do what Heather wanted not because of the debt but because he's cheating with her.

My breath caught. Something inside me cracked, silent but violent.

Heather was the first to see me. She didn’t even flinch. She simply smiled against his neck and said, “Oh. Hi, Valerie.”

Theo froze.

Slowly, he pulled away from her. His gaze met mine — not with guilt. Not with shame.

Just mild irritation and maybe a little surprise.

“Val? W-Why are you here?” he asked, like I was some stranger who'd just let herself in.

I tried to speak. Nothing came out. My hands trembled at my sides, still holding the envelope.

“I wanted to see you,” I finally managed. “I… I brought something. I thought you’d want to know—”

He stood, brushing past Heather like she was a wrinkle in his day. “You should’ve texted--”

"So you could have better time to hide whatever the hell's going on?" I blurted out, surprised at the iciness on my voice.

"Val, you have to understand--" he reached for my arm and I did not step back. I know what I saw. I know I should step away, run away, even and never look back. But I want to hear his explanation. "Heather...she helped me."

And I didn't? Did he think I was useless?

“Heather paid your hospital bills, I get that,” I said, voice trembling. “But I got the money. I can pay her back. We don’t owe her anymore, Theo. Just---" I heaved a sigh, trying to gather my strength for my next question. "Tell me you were forced to be with her. Just tell me this is not what you wanted. That you didn't have a choice."

Please.

He did not respond. He was just looking at me as though he was contemplating about something.

"Theo--"

“You think this is about debt?” Theo's laugh was sharp and joyless as he stepped forward, dropping his hand to his side. “Valerie, don’t be naive.”

Heather remained on the couch, legs elegantly crossed, watching the show like she’d seen this episode before.

“I’m with Heather now,” he said.

Just like that. Like he hadn’t just torn through me with one sentence.

“But… we’ve been together for three years. You said—” My voice broke, and I hated that it did. “You said you loved me.”

He shrugged. “I thought I did. Turns out, it was probably just pity. You have nothing for me, but Heather, she can give me the future I want.”

I reeled back like he’d slapped me.

He wasn’t done.

“You’re always clinging to things you don’t understand. You try so hard to prove yourself, and for what? A scholarship? You're struggling with your studies and you're failing. I can't be with you, Valerie. You’re always pretending to be someone you’re not.”

My fingers tightened around the envelope, crinkling the paper. I could barely breathe.

“You’re pathetic,” he said, tone so casual, so disgustingly calm. “No one’s asking you to fix anything, Valerie. No one wants you to.”

The tears came then — hot and furious, blurring the room.

“I gave up everything for you,” I whispered. I left my family, I gave up my name. I scrubbed floors, took jobs I didn’t want, begged for help from people I shouldn’t have even looked at — all so I could stay with him. And this...this is what I get.

He just stared at me.

“Maybe you never did.”

That was the final blow.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw anything.

I just turned around and walked out, my vision swimming, the hallway bending and twisting around me like it wanted to swallow me whole. The envelope slipped from my hand as I reached the stairwell, fluttering to the floor like an afterthought.

I ran. Down the stairs. Out the door. Into the street.

The air was cold and sharp, slicing into my lungs like knives.

I ran until the city blurred around me, until the only sound was the roar of blood in my ears, until my knees buckled and I collapsed against the side of a building, sobbing into the concrete.

This was what love had gotten me.

A hollow chest. A name I couldn’t use. And a boy who never really saw me.

I curled into myself as the night wrapped its arms around me. And for the first time in years, I let Saskia out of the box I had buried her in.

Because Valerie Damer was already dead.

The next morning, I called Melissa this week would be my last week at work as I am going away.

Yes, there is no point of me staying here after everything. Afterall, Theo was the reason why I was here in the first place.

The shower wouldn’t get hot.

It sputtered and groaned in the tiny apartment bathroom, spitting lukewarm water that stung against my skin. I didn’t care. I stood there anyway, arms wrapped around myself, forehead pressed to the tile, letting the water pelt my shoulders like it could rinse away what I’d seen.

But it didn’t.

It couldn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them. Theo and Heather. His mouth on her neck. His fingers in her hair. That look in his eyes — like she was the center of his universe. Like I had never been anything more than background noise.

My throat burned. Not from crying — I didn’t have tears left. It was something deeper, something raw. A scream that wouldn’t come out.

I had screamed once. In the stairwell. Quiet and hoarse, the kind of scream that rips your throat and still makes no sound.

I slid down the wall, curling in on myself on the bathroom floor, water soaking my hair, my clothes, my soul.

It wasn’t just heartbreak.

It was humiliation. Rage. Grief.

Because he hadn’t just broken my heart.

He’d made me hate myself for loving him.

I woke the next morning still on the floor.

My head throbbed. My limbs ached. My skin felt paper-thin.

I dragged myself up, every movement like swimming through cement. The mirror above the sink was fogged, but I didn’t bother wiping it clear. I knew what I looked like — hollowed-out eyes, salt-stained cheeks, hair tangled like seaweed.

Valerie Damer.

The name tasted bitter now.

She had worked so hard. Sacrificed everything. Bent herself into something palatable, small, pleasing. All to be worthy of a man who’d never once bled for her the way she bled for him.

My fingers shook as I reached for the necklace around my neck — the cheap silver chain Theo had given me on our first anniversary. A key charm, tiny and delicate. He’d told me I was the only one who had the key to his heart.

I ripped it off.

The chain snapped. The charm skittered across the floor, landing beside the envelope I had dropped when I got home.

I stared at it. Azrael’s payment. The price of my pride.

And I laughed.

It was an awful sound. Unhinged. Wet.

Because I had sold myself — my secrets, my silence — for a man who didn’t even want to be free.

I didn’t eat.

I didn’t sleep.

I paced the apartment like a ghost for two days. I ignored my phone, let the missed calls pile up — all from Melissa.

Azrael’s name lingered at the top of my texts, unread. No follow-up. No threats.

Just that first, final message:

“We’ll speak again when you're ready.”

I wasn’t sure if I would ever be ready.

By the third day, I realized I couldn’t stay here.

The apartment smelled like him — like his cologne, his coffee, the laundry detergent we’d chosen together. Every drawer I opened held pieces of our life. Mugs with inside jokes. Receipts from takeout. His damn hoodie still hanging on the back of the chair.

I grabbed a bag and began to shove clothes into it. No plan. No direction.

Just movement.

Somewhere in the chaos, I caught my reflection in the darkened window.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize myself.

And maybe that was a good thing.

Because Valerie was built to love Theo.

But I wasn’t.

Not anymore.