sie

tation. The date on the document stared back at me, mocking my weeks of agonizing arguments. Two mon

en subjected me to an elaborate charade of discussion, making me believe I still had

blurred, the pristine kitchen tiles tilting precariously beneath my feet. He

mpagne, clinking it with Ethan, a wide, triumphant smile on her face. The caption read, "To new beginnings! Thank you, Etha

with champagne and smiles. While I was still sketching desig

ed deception, the utter disregard for my feelings, my intelligence, my very existence in his life.

pt. My stomach violently rebelled, and I barely made it to the sink before

with a promise that felt so real. Us, sitting on the floor of this very apartment, sketching out our firm's logo, our names intertwined, our dreams a vibrant tapestry. We had talked about every detail,

session, every whispered vow. He had played me for a fool, a s

t wasn't a symbol of love; it was a shackles. A binding contract to a m

r him... she was gone. She had died in this kitchen, crushed under

tion. I needed to escape, to disappear, to find a place where his lies couldn't reach me. A fellowship. The archite

rything behind, just to be free of him and his tainted generosity. This apartment, our shared belongings, my car-they were all tied to him, to this broken dream. I w

lf from his narrative, to become a ghost he would never find. I wanted him to wake up one day and realize

wasn' t an act of desperation; it was an act of survival. I was ready to face whatever ca

rt. But beneath the ache, a flicker of defiance ignited. I wouldn't be a victim. I wouldn't be defined b

t would be my own. My phone buzzed again, Brenna' s name a beacon in the darkness. I had to call