A viral TikTok trend popped into my head as Matthew James merged onto the highway.

I turned to him, keeping my tone light. "You're driving me home—won't your wife get mad?"

I expected a chuckle. Maybe a roll of his eyes.

Instead, his knuckles went white on the steering wheel. The brakes screamed. The car lurched to a stop on the shoulder, throwing me forward against my seatbelt.

The temperature in the cabin plummeted.

"You already know?" His voice was ice.

The playful smile died on my face. I stared at him, blood draining from my cheeks.

Matthew clicked his tongue. His gaze cut through me like a blade. "You are not to tell her. And you are certainly not allowed to make a scene in front of her."

He didn't say the name.

He didn't need to.

*Julia Fox.* His childhood sweetheart.

They had grown up together—two families perfectly matched in wealth and status. Long before I ever met Matthew, their engagement had been carved in stone. The only reason it was ever called off was because Julia went abroad five years ago to chase her dreams.

That broken engagement was the only reason I ever had a chance.

I fell for Matthew the moment I stepped onto campus freshman year. Love at first sight. He always wore that indifferent expression, as if nothing in the world could touch him. I used to think he was just naturally cold.

Only later did I learn his smiles were reserved exclusively for her.

I chased him for two years. I poured my heart out, enduring his cold shoulders until I had nothing left to give.

Finally, one night when he was dead drunk, he looked at me with desperate eyes. "Audrey," he'd pleaded, his voice raw. "Let's be together."

I drove him home that night, my heart soaring. I thought I had finally melted the ice.

But the next morning, the walls slammed back up. He treated me like a stranger—until I showed him the video of his drunken confession.

He sighed, looking utterly defeated. "Fine. Let's try."

Despite his cold nature, Matthew treated me well enough. He surprised me with gifts. Expensive clothes. Designer bags. He kissed me with a hunger that felt almost like love.

He never introduced me to his friends. Never made us official. But I didn't mind. Since the day I added him on social media, his feed had been empty. I convinced myself he just wasn't the type to post about his personal life. I told myself our connection didn't need a digital paper trail to be real.

But now, sitting in his idling car, my world crumbled.

My nose stung. A dull ache spread through my chest, making my limbs tremble. Tears escaped despite my best efforts.

"Matthew... you could have rejected me. You could have just not liked me. But why did you *lie* to me?"

He paused, his brow furrowing as if *I* were the one being unreasonable. "You were the one who said you'd never leave me."

"If you love me," he continued, his tone clinical, "then just pretend you don't know. We can keep things exactly as they are. Isn't that enough?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I loved him, yes. But I wasn't a doormat. I wasn't a clown for him to juggle.

I had *dignity.*

A shaky breath. I forced my voice steady. "When did she come back?"

Seeing that I had stopped crying, Matthew relaxed. He put the car in gear and merged into traffic, his tone casual. "Two months ago. I picked her up from the airport."

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"The elders restored the engagement," he added. "My hands are tied."

*Two months ago.*

No wonder he vanished on my birthday without a single text. No wonder he suddenly started posting photos for a week straight—shots taken from low angles, featuring a smile brighter than anything he'd ever given me.

He had been with Julia Fox.

I turned toward the window. The city blurred past. I didn't say another word.

That night, I slept on the very edge of the bed, leaving a vast, cold expanse between us.

When Matthew finished his shower, he reached for me out of habit, leaning in for a goodnight kiss.

I turned my face away.

His frown deepened. He pulled me forcefully into his arms. "What? Still mad? I told you—I won't let her find out about you."

My eyes burned as I looked up at him. "So you expect me to be your dirty little secret for the rest of my life?"

Matthew froze. His thumb brushed my cheek, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Don't make it sound so ugly, baby."

He hooked my legs around his waist. His lips grazed the tip of my nose. "Can you really bear to leave me? Or was last night not enough for you?"

It was always like this.

Every time I needed emotional reassurance, he answered with sex. He drowned my questions in pleasure until I forgot to ask them.

Five years. He had monopolized five years of my life. My entire world revolved around him. Walking away felt like tearing off a limb.

But staying meant losing myself completely.

*It has to end.*

He kissed me fiercely, his hands skilled and demanding. I closed my eyes. A single tear traced a path into my hair.

*Fine.* Tonight would be the funeral for my wasted youth.

---

The next morning, the other side of the bed was cold.

I didn't know when Matthew had finally stopped, but the dark circles under my eyes required three layers of concealer to hide.

I arrived at the office and walked straight to Manager Swanson's office, placing my transfer application on his desk.

On my way back, Valerie Dickerson stepped out of the break room. She spotted me from down the hall, eyebrows shooting up. She adjusted her grip on her coffee cup.

And deliberately veered into my path.

I didn't react in time. We collided.

Scalding coffee splashed across my blouse and skirt.

"Oops! Sorry!" Valerie swatted at my skirt, her hands only spreading the stain further, grinding the hot liquid into my skin. Her voice dripped with saccharine insincerity. "You were walking *way* too fast. I didn't do it on purpose."

I slapped her hand away. Between Matthew's betrayal and the burn searing my leg, my patience had evaporated.

"If you're done making coffee, go back to your desk. Why are you lurking in the doorway?"

She inspected her nails, unfazed. "I came in early and forgot to clock in. Is that a crime? Maybe watch where you're going next time."

I stepped around her, fighting the urge to scream, and grabbed my spare clothes from my desk.

The coffee had left angry red burns on my calf.

Bonnie Barber slid her chair over, handing me a tube of ointment and an ice pack. Her voice dropped. "Valerie heard that Daniel Swanson gave you the director spot at the overseas branch. She's been fuming all morning. Posted a bunch of passive-aggressive status updates about you."

"Is that so?"

I checked Valerie's profile.

Blank.

"She blocked me," I said with a shrug, pressing the ice to my leg.

At lunch, I went to the hospital just to be safe. Sitting alone in the sterile white corridor, the weight of everything finally crashed down.

My heart felt like it was filled with lead. Every time my mind drifted to Matthew, a sharp, physical pain pierced my chest.

The automated system called my number three times before I snapped out of it, hastily wiping the moisture from my eyes.

The doctor dressed the burn and prescribed anti-inflammatories.

Just as I finished paying, my phone buzzed. The special ringtone I'd assigned to Matthew.

My heart skipped—a traitorous reflex. I answered the video call quickly, knowing his patience ran thin.

"What?"

On the screen, his face was flushed. His eyes, glassy. Drunk.

"I'm not coming back tonight." His words slurred slightly. "Don't wait up."

The background was chaotic. Thumping bass. Flashing lights. A high-end club.

In five years together, he never told me who he was with or where he went. If I asked, he threatened to break up. I had always walked on eggshells, terrified of losing him.

But today, something in me snapped.

"Where are you right now?" I demanded, enunciating every word.

His brow furrowed. He clicked his tongue. "Don't ask so many questions."

From off-screen, a chorus of male voices jeered.

"Yo, is the sister-in-law checking in?"

"Matthew, you've been hiding her for ages. When do we get to meet her?"

"Yeah, Matt, stop holding out on us."

Then—a hush.

"Shh, shut up. Julia is right here."

My blood froze.

On the screen, Matthew glanced nervously to his side. He lowered the phone, turning away from the camera, but the microphone caught every word.

He leaned toward someone—toward *her*—his voice dropping to a soothing murmur.

"Ignore them. They're talking nonsense. It's just the housekeeper calling about chores."

*The housekeeper.*

He pulled back. Realized the call was still connected.

Hung up.

A moment later, a message popped up.

*Friends just joking around. Don't overthink it.*

Then another.

*Stop asking so many questions when I'm out. It's annoying.*

*Annoying.*

Bitterness coated my tongue like bile, but a laugh bubbled up anyway. Cold. Hollow.

Five years. I ask where he is *twice*, and I'm "annoying."

I finally understood. His secrecy. His lack of consideration. His refusal to acknowledge me. It wasn't just his personality.

He simply didn't love me.

Now that Julia was back, I was nothing more than trash to be discarded.

*Fine.* It took five years, but I finally saw him clearly.

---

When I returned to the office, the application form on Daniel Swanson's desk hadn't moved. The HR rep told me Daniel was out for two days attending a wedding.

I snapped a photo of the form and texted it to him.

Half an hour later, my phone rang.

"Audrey, fill out the digital version and email it to me."

"I sent it this morning, Mr. Swanson."

"Oh, right." He sounded distracted. "Haven't checked my inbox. It's been chaos. Mr. James invited me to an engagement banquet last minute. Completely forgot about work."

*Mr. James... engagement banquet?*

The phone slipped in my sweaty palm. A terrible suspicion took root.

Does he really plan to hide the *entire engagement* from me?

I didn't dare ask Daniel for details. I was afraid the truth would kill the last shred of me still holding on.

"Enjoy the party, sir," I managed to choke out.

I left work and went back to Matthew's villa. Dark. Cold. Empty.

Without him, it wasn't a home. Just a house.

Mechanically, I opened social media. Scrolled mindlessly until my thumb stopped.

Daniel Swanson had posted a video.

*Congratulations to the happy couple.*

In the video, amidst cheering crowds and swelling music, a perfect pair stood center stage. The talented heir and the beautiful heiress.

They exchanged rings.

They kissed deeply—the kind of kiss that promised forever.

When they pulled apart, they gazed at each other with a tenderness Matthew had never, *not once*, shown me.

It was Matthew and Julia.

He wasn't at a club.

He was at his own engagement party.

The video playing on the screen was intimate, warm, and suffocating.