When I was with Oscar, I was at the peak of my rebellious youth. Back then, everything felt too confining and I wanted to break free from anything that felt like it was trying to shape me into someone I wasn't. Oscar, being a few years older, had this way of treating me like I was fragile, like I was something precious but delicate, always fussing over me, taking care of every little thing. At first, I loved the attention, the sense of being adored, but after a while, it started to feel suffocating. Like I was more his child than his equal. So, in a fit of defiance, I ended things.

I remember how devastated he was, how he stood in front of me, pleading, his eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "Why?" he kept asking. "Tell me and I'll change. Whatever it is, Alycia, I can fix it."

But I didn't want him to fix it. I wanted out, and in my desperation to make him let go, I blurted out the most hurtful thing I could think of.

"Oscar, the reason I'm breaking up with you is because... you're not good in bed. You can't satisfy me."

I still cringe thinking about it. Watching the words hit him, seeing the way his expression collapsed—Oscar, the man who never faltered, who always seemed so composed, was shattered by those few words.

Looking back now, I see how cruel and impulsive I had been. But back then, all I wanted was freedom. I never imagined I'd be sitting in the backseat of his car years later, soaked, humiliated and facing the one man I had broken.

Oscar glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his sharp, piercing gaze scanning me from head to toe. His dark hair was slicked back. His suit was expensive and tailored to perfection.

"Long time no see, Miss Gray," he said, his voice cool, edged with something darker. "You've really fallen on hard times, haven't you?"

I met his gaze in the mirror, trying to hold onto some shred of dignity. "Long time no see, Oscar." I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my chin up. "If it weren't for the fact that these shoes are lambskin and can't get wet, I wouldn't have gotten into your car."

The corner of his mouth twitched, a small, amused smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He ran a hand over his forehead, brushing back an invisible strand of hair. "You knew it was raining, yet you still wore shoes that can't get wet. You haven't changed, still acting like a spoiled princess, just like five years ago."

Even though his words had a bite to them, there was something softer beneath the surface, a trace of the man who once doted on me. Without another word, he reached down and pulled out a pair of fluffy, brand-new slippers from under the seat.

I stared at the slippers, feeling a sudden wave of nostalgia wash over me. When we were together, I had a bad habit of wearing high heels on our dates, often until my feet were blistered and sore. Oscar, always thinking ahead, started keeping slippers in the car for me, so I could switch when my feet couldn't take it anymore. That small gesture, back then, had seemed like the ultimate act of love. I never thought he would still have them after all these years.

"Thanks," I muttered, slipping them on. They were warm, cozy—too familiar for comfort. I stared down at my feet, avoiding his gaze.

As we neared my villa, the silence between us grew heavier. The familiar streets blurred past, illuminated by the car's headlights. The storm showed no signs of letting up, the rain drumming against the windows, a backdrop to the unspoken tension filling the car. I pulled off the slippers just before we arrived and handed them back to him, my fingers trembling slightly from the cold.

"Thank you for the slippers, Mr. Morris, but I have a boyfriend now." The words came out harsher than I intended, more defensive, like I was trying to build a wall between us.

For a moment, he said nothing, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if steadying himself. The car slowed to a stop in front of my building and the rain softened, almost in sync with the pause in his response.

Finally, he exhaled, the smallest hint of a sigh escaping his lips before he answered. "Don't overthink it, Alycia. I just forgot to take the slippers out of the car. What do you think it means?" His voice was steady, but I caught the subtle tension behind it. As he spoke, his hand absently grazed the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign that he wasn't being entirely truthful.

I knew Oscar better than most. He always touched his nose when he lied, a habit he couldn't shake even after all these years. It was like a silent confession, a small crack in his otherwise perfect façade. And yet, I didn't call him out on it. I couldn't.

He glanced at me one last time before turning his gaze back to the road. "Take care of yourself, Alycia," he said, his voice softening for the first time that night. "Even if you've moved on… some things don't change."

I stepped out into the rain, the door clicking shut behind me. As I watched his car pull away, disappearing into the misty blur of the storm, a knot tightened in my chest. I wanted to believe I had moved on too, but tonight had shaken something loose, something I wasn't ready to face.

The rain was relentless and so were the memories.

The piercing sound of my phone ringing jolted me awake, the sunlight filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow across the room. I reached for my phone, blinking against the brightness as I scrolled through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. As expected, they were all from Kai.

Kai: [Alycia, I really didn't mean to not pick you up last night, I just couldn't get away... Your little puppy knows he was wrong, please forgive me. Sob, sob.]

The message was laced with his usual charm—an apology wrapped in endearing vulnerability, complete with the sad-face emojis. I could almost picture him on the other end of the phone, his wide puppy-dog eyes, probably nervously pacing his apartment, waiting for my response.

I sighed, typing my reply.

Me: [It's fine, I'm not mad at you. The car keys are on the table, just come and get them. Oh, and don't forget the Rolex and LV belt I got for you. They're on the dresser.]

Kai: [Love you so much. Mwah!]

I could almost hear the relief in his voice, imagining his face lighting up as he read my message. The joy, the easy charm—I had seen it all before. It was the kind of relief that came from knowing I would always forgive him, no matter what.

But the truth was, beneath my calm exterior, something inside me had started to shift. It wasn't the first time Kai had let me down and it probably wouldn't be the last. Yet, every time, I let it slide, offering him another chance like it was a natural reflex. I told myself I was in control—that I was the one holding all the cards. But this time, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. I was tired.

Later that afternoon, after a long and monotonous meeting, I realized I had some time to kill. Curiosity got the better of me and I found myself heading to the wedding venue Kai had mentioned, wondering how he'd look in the suit I had helped him pick out. Maybe I was just looking for reassurance—a reminder of why I kept forgiving him.

The wedding was already in full swing when I arrived. The venue was picturesque, filled with flowers and guests dressed in their best, their laughter mixing with the gentle hum of music. As I stood near the entrance, watching from the back, the groomsmen and bridesmaids were walking down the aisle in pairs, smiles plastered across their faces. My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Kai. And then, I saw him.

There he was, standing on the stage, hand-in-hand with one of the bridesmaids. Their fingers were intertwined, their gazes locked in what could have easily been mistaken for a moment of genuine affection. For a second, everything around me froze. My heart sank and the air seemed to thin. What happened to the no physical contact rule?

Without waiting for the ceremony to end, I turned on my heel and walked out. The sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor echoed in the grand hall.

Kai must've sensed something was wrong because, not long after, he came rushing after me, his face flushed and his brow furrowed in concern. "Alycia, don't be mad," he pleaded, his voice taking on that familiar tone of desperation. "I don't even know her. It was just hand-holding, I swear. It didn't mean anything."

I stopped walking and turned to face him. My voice was calm, too calm, as I spoke. "Kai, it's not about the hand-holding. It's about whether you respect my feelings."

He blinked, clearly not expecting that response. His gaze wavered and I could see the wheels turning in his head, searching for the right words. But before I could continue, the emcee's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, calling for the groomsmen to return for the next wedding game.

Without a second thought, Kai shoved his phone into my hand and sprinted back toward the stage, his boyish grin already back in place. I stood there, holding his phone, my mind swirling with frustration and disbelief. He always knew how to make everything seem trivial, like it was no big deal. But this time, it wasn't so easy to brush off.

For some reason, my fingers hesitated over his phone. I had never been the type to snoop. I believed in trust, or at least, I used to. But something tugged at me, something deeper than curiosity—an instinct I couldn't ignore. So, I opened his messaging app.

A group chat with the groomsmen and bridesmaids lit up the screen, the notification counter ticking past 99 unread messages. I clicked into it, my eyes scanning the conversation and my stomach lurched.

Groomsman A: [Wow, your girlfriend's so overbearing, she doesn't cut you any slack!]

Bridesmaid A: [Yeah, seriously, why are you putting up with her? You're so good-looking and rich.]

Bridesmaid B: [It's 2024, who cares about hand-holding? Your girlfriend is way too petty.]

My chest tightened as I read their words, my blood turning cold. But what made my heart truly sink was Kai's reply at the bottom of the thread.

Kai: [I wish she were as understanding as you girls.]

A hollow laugh escaped my lips and the phone slipped from my hand, falling to the chair beside me. This was the man I had forgiven, time and time again—the one I had trusted, even when my gut told me otherwise.

I left the wedding without another word.

The next day, as expected, Kai sent a barrage of messages, all filled with heartfelt apologies and promises. But this time, he had gone to absurd lengths. Among the texts was a photo of a bouquet—a bouquet of roses, carefully folded from toilet paper.

Kai: [Alycia, to punish myself, I stayed up all night folding these 99 apology roses for you. Look, my hands are ruined from it. The flowers might be fake, but my love for you is real.]

The image of him standing downstairs flashed in my mind—Kai, cradling his ridiculous toilet paper roses, looking up at my window with that same sheepish grin, the sunlight glinting off his hair. He was always so earnest in his apologies, always so desperate to be forgiven.

And as I peered down from my room, watching him through the curtain, a part of me wanted to forgive him again. His handsome face, his pitiful expression—it was all too familiar. But the hurt from last night lingered and for once, I wasn't sure if I could just let it go.

But when I finally met his eyes, full of sincerity and regret, bathed in the soft morning light and dew, my heart wavered once more.

What else could I do but forgive him, once again?

I was going on a short business trip soon, so I handed over the keys to my villa to Kai for safekeeping, the light glinting off his mischievous eyes as he gave me that familiar grin.

"Don't worry, Alycia! Your little puppy will guard the house for you while you're out hunting!" Kai barked playfully, wagging his imaginary tail and giving me an exaggerated wave. "Woof, woof, goodbye, Alycia!"

I couldn't help but smile at his antics, even as a strange feeling stirred at the pit of my stomach. There was something too easy about the way he played his part—too polished, too rehearsed. But I brushed it aside, attributing it to his youthful energy. He was always good at making me laugh, after all.

What I had forgotten to mention, though, was the small detail that might've given him pause—the 360-degree surveillance cameras I had installed throughout the villa during the last renovation. I wasn't paranoid, just practical. After all, in business, you learn to safeguard your assets. My home was no different.

Hours later, nestled in the confines of my hotel suite, I found myself staring at the city skyline outside my window, feeling a bit restless. The meeting had gone well and I had some free time on my hands. On impulse, I reached for my phone and decided to check in on my little "puppy." Surely, Kai would be lounging around, maybe watching TV or raiding the fridge for a late-night snack.

But when I opened the live feed from the surveillance cameras, my heart stilled.

At first, I couldn't quite process what I was seeing. There, on the screen, wasn't just Kai. Several women were with him, all of them giggling, relaxed and too familiar. They were the bridesmaids from the wedding, sprawled across my velvet couch like they belonged there. One of them, the same girl who had clasped Kai's hand during the wedding, was holding a glass of my most expensive wine.

They were enjoying the imported steaks I had flown in from abroad, their laughter filling the villa as they dined like they owned the place. A cocktail of rage and disbelief settled in my gut as I watched. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be my Kai—my loyal, puppy-eyed Kai.

The scene only grew worse.

They weren't just eating and laughing. I watched, unable to tear my eyes away, as Kai led them—led them—into my bedroom, like some depraved tour guide showing off the prize suite. And then, in the most twisted, disgusting betrayal, they began to strip down, their laughter taking on a different tone entirely.

After what felt like an eternity, they finished. Kai lay back, his naked body barely covered by the silk sheets I had personally selected, a cigarette dangling from his lips—a cigarette. I had never seen him smoke. The casual arrogance in the way he puffed at it, blowing smoke lazily into the air, disgusted me. He didn't look like the man I thought I knew. He looked like a stranger—cold, cruel, unrecognizable.

The bridesmaid, her hair tousled from their romp, propped herself up on her elbow and gave Kai a coy smile. "Kai, if your girlfriend finds out we did this at her place, won't she be mad? She's so fierce. Not like us—we just care for you."

Her voice dripped with faux sweetness, the kind of sugary poison that could rot a person from the inside out. I wanted to scream at the screen, to reach through and throttle her, but I couldn't.

Kai's laugh was low, almost condescending. He took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly into her face before replying, "Why would she be mad? In my eyes, she's just a free ATM and a sugar mommy. Does she really think I like her? She's over 30. Who else would want her besides me?"

The laughter that followed was deafening. I had been reduced to a walking wallet—a joke. Everything we had shared, every moment I had believed in, shattered in an instant.

I watched as Kai casually leaned against the bridesmaid's bare legs, the smoke from his cigarette curling up into the air like the lies he had told me for years. In that moment, it was clear—I had never known him at all.

By the time I returned from the trip, I had already decided what I was going to do. I didn't warn Kai. I didn't text him or call him. I let him think everything was fine. Let him think that the little "puppy" had gotten away with it yet again.

But this time, I had plans of my own.

I slipped back into the apartment I had bought for Kai, moving quietly through the space like a shadow. He wasn't home or in my villa, probably out somewhere, living his double life without a care in the world.

I didn't come back to confront him. No, I headed straight for the thing I cared about most.

The dog. My actual dog.