Chapter 1
On a rainy night.
I came back early from Paerine, hoping to surprise Declan.
The key turned into the entryway lock—but from inside, a woman's moan floated through the air.
Shelly cooed, "Declan, darling, you're so bad."
My hand froze in mid-air.
That voice was all too familiar: Shelly, Declan's assistant.
The living room was dimly lit, and two figures entwined on the sofa.
Shelly Caldwell was straddling Declan Sterling, wearing the silk nightgown I'd just bought last month.
She purred, "Darling, you're amazing. I'm falling apart from your touch."
Declan ran his hand down her back, his voice deep and attractive. "Naughty girl, moan louder for me."
My heart felt as if it had been stabbed hard.
The suitcase in my hand crashed to the ground with a bang.
The two sprang apart instantly. Declan's face turned ashen as he looked at me.
"Claire? Wh-why are you back so soon?" Declan asked.
Shelly quickly pulled on her robe, her eyes gleaming with smugness.
Fighting back tears, my voice trembling, I demanded, "I should be the one asking that—what the hell are you two doing?"
"Claire, wait, I can explain—" Declan pleaded.
"Explain what?" I cut him off. "Explain how she is sitting on your lap to discuss work?"
Declan said nothing.
Shelly suddenly spoke up, "Come on, Claire. Declan doesn't love you anymore. He told me you're like a dead fish in bed."
Her words struck like a physical blow, the humiliation burning across my face.
"Declan, so this is what you really think of me?" I asked.
Still, he said nothing, his eyes darting away.
I figured it out.
His silence said it all.
Without looking back, I strode away as Declan shouted my name behind me.
For three years of marriage, I truly believed we were happy.
Turned out it was just my one-woman show all along.
*****
The neon lights flickered coldly in the empty midnight streets. I wandered through the rain, my vision blurred by tears.
My phone buzzed—it was Declan.
I declined the call without hesitation.
Then it rang again.
I hung up again.
When it rang for the third time, I turned it off for good.
I didn't want to hear a single word of his excuses.
Some things didn't need excuses—they're lies in disguise.
The rain poured harder, soaking me to the bone.
Passing by a 24-hour convenience store, I went in.
"Miss, are you okay?" the clerk asked with concern.
I shook my head and grabbed a bottle of wine.
Sitting on the steps outside the store, I sipped my wine.
The alcohol muddled my thoughts.
The memory of the first meeting with Declan came flooding back.
It was at a college fashion design competition—he was a judge, and I was a contestant.
He said my design was full of creativity and asked if I'd like to intern at his company.
I rose from intern to designer, and we grew from lovers to couples.
I thought we'd grow old together.
My phone rang again. It was my best friend, Laurel Shaw.
"Claire, where are you?" Laurel's voice was laced with concern. "Declan's been tearing the city apart looking for you."
I said, "What does he want now? To humiliate me all over again?"
Laurel said softly, "He says he wants to talk to you—he practically begged me to get you to come back home."
"Home?" I laughed bitterly. "Do I even have a home anymore?"
Laurel fell silent for a moment before asking softly, "Where are you now? I'll come get you."
"Thanks, but I need some time alone," I answered.
I hung up the phone and kept drinking.
The bottle emptied quickly, and my mind started to go fuzzy.
I'd lost track of time when suddenly, a familiar figure stood before me.