chapter 1

Isabella's pov

“Babe?” I called, dumping my work bag on the sofa.

The house was unusually quiet, but with the door open, I knew Nathan was home. He must have been sleeping or so I thought. until I headed towards the bedroom and the almost silent, sultry sounds began sailing into my ear.

“B…babe…” I tried again with a shaky voice.

The sight that greeted me knocked the breath from my lungs. Nathan, my Nathan was sprawled across the sheets, tangled with Sarah. Sarah, my best friend. Her nails raked across his back, his lips crushed against hers.

For a moment, I froze, rooted to the spot, staring at the scene like it was some nightmare I had woken up from. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst. My throat burned, but no sound came out.

They didn’t even notice me. They were too consumed with each other.

The moans, the whispers, the way his hands moved over her body he had never done that to me before.

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to demand why. But all I could do was clutch the doorframe, fighting to breathe through the pain ripping me apart.

I stepped back slowly, the weight of betrayal pressing down on me, suffocating me. With each step, the truth sank deeper into my chest. I had lost not just a lover, but a friend.

I couldn’t stand another second of watching. Without a word, I turned on my heel and marched into the living room.

My hands shook as I yanked open drawers and began pulling out the few things I had left in his apartment my ID, my staff access card, the little pouch where I kept my keys.

My bag hit the floor with a dull thud as I stuffed everything inside.

The tears I had been holding back finally blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. My breathing was uneven, my fingers fumbling over the last few items as though time was running out and I needed to escape before the air itself betrayed me.

From down the hall, a moan echoed, followed by a breathless laugh that made my stomach twist. My heart shattered into smaller, sharper pieces, but I forced my body to keep moving.

I would not give him the satisfaction of finding me broken.

I swung my bag over my shoulder and wiped my damp palms on my skirt, ready to storm out and never look back.

My heels clicked hard against the floor as I made for the door, but the universe wasn’t about to let me slip away quietly.

The bedroom door creaked open.

“Isabella?”

Her voice. Sarah’s voice.

I froze mid step, my back stiffening as I turned my head. She stood there, hair a wild mess, her skin flushed, and worst of all completely naked.

The moment her eyes locked with mine, the color drained from her face only to return in a fiery rush of red embarrassment. She fumbled with the towel in her hand in a pathetic attempt to cover herself, but it was too late.

Our eyes met for one long, venomous second. Hers wide with shock, mine sharp with betrayal.

I didn’t say a word. Words were useless now.

With a cold, trembling hand, I reached for the doorknob and pulled it open.

The door slammed shut behind me.

I kept walking, faster and faster, the cool night air burning against my cheeks. My chest tightened as if something sharp had pierced inside me.

The images wouldn’t stop, Nathan’s smile when he first asked me out, the silly little love notes he used to leave in my bag, the warm weight of his hand laced through mine.

I remembered the way he kissed me under the rain one evening when we were too broke to take a cab, how he bought me cheap bracelets and swore they were more precious than diamonds, how he held me through nights when life felt unbearable.

Those memories had once been my anchor. Now they were knives, each one cutting deeper than the last.

My breath hitched, shaky and uneven. I stumbled to a bench by the roadside, clutching my bag to my chest like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

Tears spilled freely, hot and bitter, smearing the makeup I had carefully applied that morning.

“How could you, Nathan…” I whispered into my palms, the words breaking apart in sobs. “How could you do this to me? After everything?”

I broke down completely, shoulders heaving, body curling into itself. The world felt cruel, silent, and unbearably empty.

I buried my face in my palms, shaking, the tears coming harder than I could control. My chest burned with every sob, but the pain refused to ease.

For a while, I forgot where I was.

When I finally looked up, the world around me felt too real. People were passing by strangers with curious eyes.

A woman slowed her steps, staring at me as if I were some pitiful spectacle. A man shook his head before walking past, muttering something I couldn’t catch. Two teenagers giggled, whispering to each other as their gazes lingered on my swollen face.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Embarrassment tangled with grief, choking me even more.

I quickly wiped at my tears with trembling hands, trying to hide the wreck I had become. But my mascara had already left dark streaks across my skin.

I was about to push myself off the cold bench when a shadow fell over me.

For a moment, I thought it was another stranger stopping to stare, and I braced myself for more pitying eyes.

But instead, a clean white handkerchief appeared in front of me.

Long fingers, steady and sure, held it out as if he’d been waiting for me to take it.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze higher, meeting the outline of a tall man in a crisp suit. His posture was calm, almost commanding, but there was no mockery in the way he stood.

My throat tightened again, and for a second, I couldn’t move.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the handkerchief, my voice barely a whisper.

“Th…thank you.”

Slowly, I blinked away the blur in my vision and looked up again.

This time, I saw him clearly. His eyes deep blue, like the ocean at dawn held mine with an intensity that made me forget where I was.

His face was all sharp lines and elegance, sculpted like it belonged in a painting. His lips pressed in a quiet line. His curly black hair framed his forehead.

He was already turning away.

I stared after him, clutching the fabric tightly as if it were the only proof he had been real.

When I looked up again, the crowd had swallowed him.

He was gone.