The rain beat on the windowpane, the frantic rhythm reflected the storm brewing inside you. Empty mugs sat on the coffee table, the remnants of a morning that had begun with promises and dissolved into a bitter argument.

Y- I just... I don't understand, Raff.

You were standing at the window, with your back to it, watching the blurred lights of the city spread across the rain-soaked glass.

Raff walked behind you, exuding a restless energy. He ran a hand through his already disheveled dark hair, clenching his jaw. He had been apologizing for the last hour, weaving a web of explanations that seemed to only get tangled with each new thread. It all started with a message you saw, a fleeting, harmless message from a name you didn't know. But the casual nature of the exchange, the implied familiarity, destroyed the carefully built trust between you.

Raff- I swear, nothing. Simply... colleague. We're working on the Peterson account together. That's all.

You didn't turn around. You knew this story. A plausible, perfectly reasonable explanation. One that always left a lingering doubt. He's said it all before, with different names, different scenarios, everything carefully thought out to sound innocent.

You've spent the last two years building a life with Raff. You opened up to him, showing him the vulnerable parts of yourself, the doubts, fears, and dreams that you held close. And here you are, trapped in this suffocating silence, broken only by the incessant rumble of rain.

Raff stopped walking. He approached, his hand hesitantly hovering at your shoulder. He looked at you and then said the words. The words that punched a hole in your chest, that tore apart the already frayed edges of your heart.

Raff- You should know that you are at the top of my ranking among women.