Faith Frazier POV:

"No one important."

Those two words, spoken with such cold indifference, twisted in my gut like a knife. A bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. I looked at Dale, then at Jetta, and a stark realization hit me: I was nothing to him. A stranger.

Jetta, sensing victory, beamed. Her eyes, bright with a newfound possessiveness, flickered with triumph as she tiptoed, her soft lips brushing against Dale' s jawline. He didn't pull away. He just stood there, letting her mark her territory. My blood ran cold. The world spiraled around me, and I felt myself falling, falling into a black abyss.

I don't remember how I got downstairs or how I found myself back in our apartment. My phone buzzed again. It was Dale. His voice was hoarse, tinged with a nervous edge. "Did you… see anything?" he asked, the hesitation in his tone a clear admission of guilt.

"Are you afraid I did?" I retorted, the words burning my throat. Tears welled up, salty and bitter, tracing paths down my face. I couldn't understand. If he cared enough to ask, why did he betray me?

He let out a relieved sigh. "Look, just come back up, okay? Let's talk." His voice was light, almost cheerful.

"There's nothing left to talk about," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion, and hung up. I ignored his outraged shouts from the other end.

The task of erasing a decade of my life was monumental. I packed two large suitcases, filled with all the expensive gifts Dale had showered on me – the designer clothes, the jewelry, the limited-edition art pieces. Valuables that once symbolized his love now felt like shackles. I donated everything to a local charity, shedding the physical manifestations of a love that had become a gilded cage.

Then I walked to the glass cabinet. My hand trembled as I reached for the stack of airline tickets. The first one, faded and yellowed, brought a ghost of a smile to my lips. It was from our very first date, a weekend trip to Paris. He had kept it, a memento of new beginnings. The tenth, a surprise anniversary trip to Venice, where he proposed a picnic under the Rialto Bridge. The four-hundred-and-fiftieth – a picture of us, laughing, hand-in-hand, on a beach in Bali.

I hadn't forgotten anything. Every memory, every shared laugh, every tender moment was seared into my mind. A decade of love, etched into my very soul, now had to be ripped out, piece by agonizing piece.

I dropped the tickets, each one a testament to our history, into the fireplace. A match flared, igniting the corners of the paper. The flames danced, consuming the fragile remnants of our past. The warmth they generated was fleeting, quickly replaced by a chilling emptiness. I watched as the last embers died, leaving behind only ashes, a faint outline of city names still visible on the charred fragments.

A gaping void opened in my chest. My throat constricted, choked by a thousand untold sorrows. I couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't cry. My heart was a barren wasteland, emptied of all emotion.

This was it. We were done. No debts, no lingering ties. Just ashes.

Faith Frazier POV:

I told my best friend everything. She slammed her fist on the table, her face contorted with fury. "That bastard!" she snarled, then her eyes softened with concern. "Are you really okay, Faith?"

I shook my head, my voice a hollow whisper. "I'm past being sad."

She nursed her drink, tears streaming down her face. "He was always so arrogant, so sure of himself," she muttered, "so sure he had you wrapped around his finger." She looked at me, her eyes bloodshot. "You're too good, Faith. You always choose to break rather than bend." She finished her drink, slamming the glass down. "I hope he tastes what it's like to truly lose you. I hope he searches the ends of the earth and never finds you. He'll regret it for the rest of his life."

Then she buried her face in her arms on the bar, sobbing.

I stared at her, then at my own reflection in the dimly lit glass. Would he regret it? Would he really?

Her boyfriend came to pick her up, still half-asleep and confused. I paid the bill, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. As I turned to leave, I bumped into one of Dale's friends. His eyes lit up with recognition. "Faith!" he exclaimed, grabbing my arm. "Thank God! Can you please talk some sense into Dale? He's completely wasted."

Before I could protest, he dragged me into a private room. Laughter and loud music assaulted my ears. Jetta, her eyes sparkling with false innocence, had just lost a game. Her "punishment" was to kiss a random person. She glanced at Dale, a sly, predatory glint in her eyes, then sidled up to him, her voice a soft purr. "Help me, Dale," she pleaded, her hands playfully tracing the outline of his chest.

Dale, his collar slightly open, his eyes glazed with alcohol, blinked slowly. "What?" he mumbled, clearly disoriented. He tried to shake his head, but Jetta was already too close. Her soft fingers brushed against his abs, and a shiver ran through him. His eyes darkened, his throat bobbed.

Then, he leaned in and kissed her. Hard.

His back was to the door, shielding him from my view, from the world. But Jetta saw me. Her eyes met mine, a smirk twisting her lips. She mouthed a word, a cruel, cutting whisper that pierced through the noise: "Old hag."

My eyes turned to ice. "Let me go," I snarled at Dale's friend, my voice low and dangerous.

"Faith, I'm so sorry," he stammered, trying to appease me. "It's just the alcohol, he doesn't mean it…"

Jetta glided over, her smile saccharine. "Did you see that, Faith? He kisses so passionately. Are you jealous?"

"You shameless little slut," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "A home-wrecker, that's what you are."

Her face twisted in fury. "I'm not a home-wrecker!" she shrieked. "The one who isn't loved is the real home-wrecker! Look at you, so old, so ugly. And you think you're so smart, getting your degrees by sleeping with professors, don't you?"

My hand moved before I could even think. A sharp crack echoed through the room as my palm connected with her cheek. Her head snapped back, a crimson mark blooming on her pale skin.

"How dare you!" she screeched, clutching her face.

"How dare I?" I spat, my voice laced with pure rage. "Shut up, you pathetic little bitch!"

The shouting grew louder, drawing attention. Dale, his eyes still heavy with drink, finally turned towards the commotion.

Faith Frazier POV:

Dale's eyes, still hazy with alcohol, widened as they landed on Jetta's bright red, swollen cheek. A furious anger ignited in his gaze. He rushed forward, shielding Jetta behind him, his body a wall of accusation. "What did you do, Faith?!" he roared, his voice thick with rage. "Are you out of your mind? Attacking her like this?!"

The man who had once vowed to love me forever was now defending Jetta, his eyes blazing with a hatred I had never seen directed at me. My lips curled into a bitter smile. "She's a home-wrecker, Dale," I stated, my voice dangerously calm. I lifted my chin, meeting his furious gaze. "Do you love her, Dale? Tell me. Do you love this pathetic excuse for a woman?"

He flinched, his eyes darting away for a split second. The fury in him seemed to deflate slightly. "Don't be ridiculous, Faith," he murmured, his voice strained. "Not here. Let's go home and talk."

"Home?" I scoffed, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "You can be intimate with her here, but I can't speak the truth? What a joke." My laughter was a bitter, broken sound.

Dale froze, his face paling. He finally understood. I had seen everything. He took a step towards me, his hand outstretched, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Faith, let me explain," he began, but Jetta, still sniffling behind him, whispered his name. He hesitated, his hand dropping, his gaze torn between us. "Please," he pleaded, "let's just go home. We can work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," I said, my voice hardening. I slapped his hand away, the sting in my palm a welcome distraction from the pain in my heart. "This is over."

I strode out of the bar, the cold night air a stark contrast to the burning rage within me. I heard his frantic footsteps behind me, then Jetta's soft, pleading cry of his name. I didn't look back. The moon cast a long, lonely shadow beside me as I walked, my heart a barren landscape.

I rushed home, my mind made up. My bags were already packed. I was leaving. Now.

Dale screeched to a halt in his car, bursting through the door just as I was about to leave. He was breathless, frantic. He pulled a diamond ring from his pocket, scrambling to put it on my finger. "Marry me, Faith," he panted, his eyes desperate. "Let's just be together. I promise, everything will be fine."

The diamond glittered, the inside band engraved with our initials, a symbol of a love I once believed in. His face was earnest, and for a fleeting moment, I was transported back to a time when his promises meant everything. But the cold metal on my finger brought me back to the present, to the crushing reality of his betrayal.

I took two steps back, pulling my hand away. The ring flew from my grasp, clattering to the floor. "What exactly is Jetta to you, Dale?" I demanded, my voice trembling.

The ring lay shattered on the marble, a crack running through the diamond. Dale stared at it, then at me, his face twisting with anger. "What are you doing, Faith?! How much longer are you going to keep this up?!" he roared, his voice laced with frustration. "You're being irrational! Jetta's just an intern, she's about to become a full-time employee. You're going to make me hate you!" His voice was icy. "You can't live without me, Faith. You know that."

I cut him off, my voice sharp. "Are you so sure?" I asked, my eyes piercing his. "You were the most important person in my life for ten years, Dale. But I have my own education, my own career. I'm not some clinging vine who can't survive without you." My voice was laced with anger. "Why do you think I can't leave you?"

His breath caught in his throat. He stared at me, disbelief etched on his face. He didn't want to believe it.

My phone screen lit up, a reminder of my flight. He narrowed his eyes, reaching for my phone, a possessive glint in his gaze.