2

Before I could even reach the closet, his hand closed around mine and he pulled me back into his arms, holding me with a firmness that once felt like safety but now felt like restraint.

His touch no longer comforted me but trapped me instead in a space I could no longer breathe in.

“Leave me alone!” I snapped immediately, my voice cutting through the air between us with a sharpness I didn’t even recognize in myself, and I hated how his hands still acted like I belonged to him, especially when those same hands had clearly been on Serena, on someone who was never supposed to exist in this space between us.

Luke didn’t flinch at my resistance, instead tightening his arms around me, he’s not noticing my anger, or maybe he’s thinking I’m angry because he didn’t come home on time on our anniversary.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” he said softly, his voice carefully shaped into something gentle and familiar, the kind of tone that used to undo all my anger in seconds, “you know I’d never put anything before us, I love you so much,” and hearing it now made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with warmth.

The words should have reached me the way they always used to, should have softened something inside me and made me lean into him like I had done countless times before, but instead they collided violently with the memory of the video I had seen just minutes ago, the image of him and Serena refusing to leave my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it away.

Before, I would have smiled at him without hesitation, would have allowed myself to be guided back into comfort and routine, would have accepted whatever apology or surprise he had prepared because believing him had always been easier than questioning the life I had built with him, but that version of me felt distant now, like someone I used to know but could no longer reach.

And now he was telling me he loved me, as though the word still carried the same meaning it once did, as though love could exist in the same breath as betrayal, as though it could survive being shared with someone else without breaking into something unrecognizable and cruel.

Love me enough to kiss another woman, I thought bitterly, love me enough to call her his best friend while standing in front of me like I was the only person who mattered, love me enough to lie so effortlessly that I almost believed I was the one misunderstanding everything.

I swallowed hard as my body refused to stop shaking, forcing myself to remain calm even as something inside me cracked further, because I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart in front of him when he was the one who had caused it in the first place.

He slowly released the hug, but even then his hand lingered on my waist as if letting go completely meant losing control, as if I would disappear the moment he stopped holding on, and that lingering touch made my skin crawl in a way I could no longer ignore.

His smile returned like a mask slipping into place, and then he leaned in slightly as if he expected me to meet him halfway, as if my resistance was temporary and I would eventually return to being the version of myself who always forgave him too easily.

I moved away instantly, turning my face before his lips could reach mine, and I saw the brief flicker of surprise on his face.

“I guess you’re angry,” he said with a faint chuckle that felt misplaced in the heaviness between us, “let me make it up to you,” and his hand slid away from my waist slowly as his eyes remained locked on mine, searching for something I was no longer willing to give him.

I refused to meet his gaze properly, turning slightly as his presence filled the space too completely, because I could still smell him too clearly, that mixture of his cologne and floral that did not belong to me at all.

My stomach tightened as the realization formed in my mind without permission, the scent of another woman clinging to him in a way that made every denial impossible, and I hate how easily my thoughts filled in the gaps I did not want to see. He was with Serena, yet he lied that he was busy.

He pulled my hand gently but firmly toward the entrance of the room, and I allowed myself to be guided not because I agreed with him but because my body felt heavier than my anger, as though truth itself had begun to weigh me down.

When we reached the doorway, I stopped abruptly as my breath caught in my throat, because the entire space beyond had been transformed into something carefully arranged and painfully familiar, petals scattered across the floor and candles placed there.

For a moment, I almost felt something inside me soften, almost allowed myself to be pulled back into memory, because it looked like every promise he had ever made to me, every future I had once imagined with him before everything started to fall apart.

This morning he had told me to get ready by seven, his voice bright and excited as he promised he would pick me up himself, and I had believed him completely, dressing beautifully for a day I thought would belong to us alone.

Now that same effort felt like something wasted, because I could no longer separate his words from the truth I had already seen, and the illusion he had created around us no longer had the power to comfort me the way it once did.

Luke turned toward me again, watching my face carefully as if trying to measure my reaction, and I felt the weight of his attention press against me in a way that made it harder to breathe.

“Bella,” he said gently, pulling me back from my thoughts, and I realized only then that I had been standing completely still as though my body had forgotten how to respond to anything happening around me.

I didn’t answer him, because any response felt like participation in a scene I no longer belonged to, and I could not bring myself to pretend that any of this still made sense.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his tone careful, as though I was something he feared breaking, but I remained silent because the question itself felt like an insult after everything I had already seen.

How can he still be this sweet, yet having an affair with his best friend, ridiculous!