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.

Faith Frazier POV:

A soft, almost imperceptible meow-like sound drifted through the door. I turned, confused, as Jetta walked in, typing a password into the keypad, as if she owned the place. The absurdity of it all almost made me laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that caught in my throat. This was my home. Our home.

Dale, momentarily distracted, looked up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes quickly replaced by a puzzled concern for Jetta. She sniffled, bowing her head. "I'm so sorry, Faith," she mumbled, her voice dripping with fake contrition. "It was just a dare. I didn't know you' d mind so much." She held out a small mud doll, her eyes wide and innocent. "I wish you and Dale a hundred years of happiness."

Her words were a poison, and Dale, oblivious, swallowed it whole. His frown deepened. Jetta then scurried over to me, clutching the doll. "Please, Faith, please forgive me." She pressed the doll into my hand.

I felt a surge of nausea. I shoved her away, the touch repulsive. She stumbled, falling with exaggerated force, hitting her lower back against the glass cabinet. The mud doll shattered, its pieces scattering across the floor. Jetta screamed, clutching her back. "It hurts! She pushed me!" she wailed, "Faith pushed me!"

Dale' s fists clenched. He rushed to Jetta's side, scooping her into his arms, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. "How could you, Faith?!" he snarled, his voice trembling with disappointment. "How could you be so cruel? She's just a child!"

Jetta's tears, fake as they were, seemed to melt his heart. He took a deep, shaky breath, his voice hardening into an ominous command. "Apologize to her, Faith. Now."

I lifted my chin, my eyes, cold as ice, reflecting their intimate tableau. "Apologize?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "There's nothing to apologize for. You and her… you're inseparable. You can't even give me a proper explanation. And you want me to apologize?" I shook my head, the absurdity of it all almost overwhelming. "Tell me, Dale, do you love her?"

He winced, the question a physical blow. His anger seemed to falter, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. An unsettling fear bloomed in his chest. He was afraid. Afraid of losing me for good. He loved me, he knew that. But Jetta… she was so vulnerable, so dependent. He couldn't just abandon her. He opened his mouth, hesitating, about to speak.

But then, Jetta, her eyes wide with feigned shock, pointed behind me. "Dale! Your tickets! They're burned!"

Faith Frazier POV:

Dale's breath hitched. His body stiffened, then slowly, agonizingly, he turned. The charred remnants of his "proof of love" lay scattered in the fireplace. Three years of his sacrifice, his devotion, reduced to ash. All his hesitation, his guilt, his remorse – they vanished in an instant, replaced by a towering inferno of rage.

His mind reeled. He remembered the lonely nights he had spent collecting those tickets, each one a desperate attempt to bridge the distance between us, a symbol of his unwavering commitment. They were his lifeline, his connection to me. Now, they were meaningless, a pile of worthless garbage.

"Did you do this, Faith?" His voice was unnervingly calm, a terrifying prelude to the storm brewing within him. His sanity snapped. A dark, primal fury radiated from him.

"Yes," I replied, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me. "I did."

"Why?!" he roared, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"Why?" I echoed, a bitter laugh bubbling in my throat. I watched his face contort with pain, a cruel satisfaction twisting in my gut. "Don't you dare pretend you're surprised, Dale. You think I' m blind? You don't love me anymore. Why would I keep something that reminds me of your lies? It makes me sick." I bit down on the inside of my cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. "It makes me utterly disgusted."

His chest heaved. He grabbed a chair, swinging it wildly, smashing it against the glass cabinet. Shards of glass rained down, a deafening crash echoing through the room. "You selfish bitch!" he screamed, his face contorted with rage, veins throbbing at his temples. "You're spoiled, Faith! I'll show you what real disgust feels like!"

He waved his hand, and two burly housekeepers rushed forward, grabbing me by the arms. "What are you doing?!" I shrieked, struggling against their grasp. "How dare you!"

His back was to me, a wall of cold indifference. One of the housekeepers, a woman I had trusted, slapped me across the face. "Jetta's the real mistress now, you hear?" she hissed, her eyes gleaming with malice. She pulled out a small pink pill, forcing my jaw open and shoving it down my throat.

I choked, coughing violently. "What was that?!" I gasped, my throat burning.

"Something special from Jetta," she sneered, forcing me to swallow.

The basement door slammed shut, plunging me into suffocating darkness. The scuttling of rats, the skittering of insects, the faint cries of unseen creatures – they filled the blackness. But I was beyond fear. All I felt was a crushing weariness.

My skin began to itch, an unbearable agony. Red, swollen welts bloomed across my body. I writhed on the cold concrete floor, scratching myself until I bled, the itching so intense it made me scream. Then came the burning, an inferno consuming my skin, followed by a suffocating tightness in my chest. My lungs burned, air refusing to enter. I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking, cold sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.

I tried to call for help, but there was no signal. Only a cold, metallic echo.

Finally, a connection. Dale's voice, cold and distant, came through the phone. "Apologize, Faith," he said, his voice flat. "Then I'll let you out."

"Jetta… she drugged me," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, my body convulsing with pain.

"Don't you dare accuse her," he retorted, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's innocent."

Then the line went dead. Just before the call ended, I heard Jetta's soft, sugary voice in the background, a chilling counterpoint to my suffering. My hand went limp, the phone clattering to the floor. Darkness consumed me.

Flashes of memory assaulted me: Dale, his face etched with worry, cradling me in his arms, promising to never let me hurt again. "I'll never let you feel pain, Faith," he had whispered, his lips pressed against my forehead.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I closed my eyes, the bitter irony of his words a final, crushing blow.