After Leaving Betrayal Behind, New Love Blooms

I smoothed the crimson tablecloth for the fifth time, adjusting the crystal wine glasses until they caught the light just right. Six years. Six perfect years with Jayden, and tonight was going to be special.

The candles cast a warm glow across our dining room, their light dancing off the framed photos of us that lined the wall. My favorite was from our second year together—Jayden's arms wrapped around me at the beach, both of us laughing at some forgotten joke. His smile had always been my favorite thing about him.

"Perfect," I whispered, stepping back to admire my handiwork. The table was set with our best dishes, the ones we'd picked out together when we moved into this apartment. The roast was in the oven, filling the air with a rich aroma that made my stomach growl.

I checked my watch: 7:15 PM. Jayden had texted this morning that he'd be home by six, but these things happened. Work emergencies came up. That's what I loved about him—his dedication, his ambition to prove himself beyond his family name.

"He'll be here soon," I told myself, pouring a glass of wine and taking a sip to calm my nerves.

By eight o'clock, the roast was ready. I'd called Jayden twice, but both times it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me," I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. "Just wondering where you are. Dinner's almost ready. Call me back?"

At nine, I sat down at the table alone, staring at the cooling food. The candles had burned halfway down, wax pooling on the silver holders I'd polished to a shine.

"Maybe there was an accident," I thought, my stomach knotting with worry. "Or his phone died."

I called again at nine-thirty. Straight to voicemail.

"Wren?" Marcus's voice came through when I called my brother next. "Everything okay?"

"Jayden's late," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. "He's not answering his phone."

"Have you tried the office?"

"It's closed. It's our anniversary, Marcus."

A pause. "Oh. Well, maybe he's planning something special? You know how he is."

I nodded, though Marcus couldn't see me. "Yeah. You're probably right."

By ten, I'd given up on dinner. The food was wrapped and in the fridge, the table half-cleared. I sat on the couch with my laptop open, pretending to work but really just watching the door.

Eleven came and went. Then midnight.

At twelve-thirty, I tried calling again, my finger trembling slightly as I pressed his number.

This time, it rang.

My heart leapt—then plummeted as a woman's voice answered.

"Hello?" Giggle. "Jayden's busy right now."

The phone nearly slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. "Who is this?" I managed to ask, my voice barely audible.

"Oh, he didn't mention me? I'm Charley." Another giggle, followed by muffled sounds like she was covering the phone. "We're just having some fun. Don't wait up."

The line went dead.

I sat frozen, staring at the phone in my hand as if it had burned me. Charley. The name hit me like a physical blow. Charley West. Jayden's first love. The girl from his past he never quite got over.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, no, no."

I called back immediately, but this time it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. And again. Each unanswered ring was another knife in my chest.

I didn't sleep that night. I sat on our bed—our bed—staring at the door, waiting for it to open. When it finally did, sunlight was streaming through the windows.

Jayden walked in casually, his briefcase in hand, his expression unreadable.

"Morning," he said, like nothing had happened.

I stared at him, this man I'd loved for six years, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a stranger.

"We missed our anniversary dinner," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "And a woman named Charley answered your phone last night."

He shrugged, setting his briefcase down. "Work emergency. You know how it is."

"I called you seventeen times, Jayden."

"Phone battery died." He moved toward the bathroom, but I stepped in front of him.

"Who is Charley?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He hesitated, just for a second, but it was enough. "An old friend who stopped by the office. We had dinner after the meeting ran late."

"An old friend who answered your phone in the middle of the night?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You're being dramatic, Wren. It was just dinner."

But the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes told me everything I needed to know. Something was wrong—deeply, terribly wrong—and whatever it was, Jayden Knight wasn't going to tell me the truth about it.