November 12, 2023—Autumn in London had painted the city in muted golds and rain.

That day, rain fell even though the sky was bright. Droplets descended slowly, kissing the pavement glowing beneath the sunlight, as if the heavens themselves could not decide whether to rejoice or to mourn. She stood beneath the endless blue, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Inside her chest swelled a pride so deep it almost hurt. Alejandro—the man she loved, the man who had once been nothing more than a weary law student clinging to fragile dreams—now stood at the height of his success. He had worked, fought, bled for this, and today she came to honor him in the only way she knew: with a warm lunch, carefully packed and made with love.

Her steps were light, almost playful, as though each raindrop scattering around her bloomed into flowers only she could see. Her heart beat fast, imagining his face lighting up with that familiar smile the moment she handed him the brown paper bag. What sweeter joy could there be than this quiet offering in the middle of his busy day? In her mind, their seven years together stretched like unbreakable thread, strong enough to endure anything, steady as the rain that dared fall against the shining sun.

But all of it shattered the moment the office door opened.

Time seemed to stop. She froze in place, her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what was so painfully clear before her. Alejandro—the man who had been the center of her world, the reason behind every sacrifice for the past seven years—stood with his lips still pressed against those of his assistant. The sight tore through her like a blade of ice, sharp and merciless, carving straight into her chest.

The paper bag in her trembling hands shook violently, nearly slipping from her grasp. Tears streamed down her cheeks in uncontrollable rivers, even as she tried to wipe them away with quivering fingers. Her breath came ragged, broken between sobs and shallow gasps that could not find completion. The meal she had poured her love into, meant to be a tender offering, now mocked her cruelly, reduced to nothing but bitter irony.

At last, Alejandro turned. He exhaled slowly—not in guilt, but with a chilling calmness. His gaze was steady, detached, devoid of even the faintest flicker of shame, as though what had just happened were nothing more than small talk between meetings. With casual ease, he tilted his head toward the woman he had just kissed and said, his tone flat, “Can you give us a moment?”

The assistant showed no regret. Instead, she smiled with smug satisfaction, her fingers trailing boldly across Alejandro’s chest before she stepped away. The air around her radiated arrogance as she brushed past without so much as an apology, without even the courtesy of acknowledgment. The door closed firmly behind her, leaving only two souls in the room—bound by love, betrayal, and ruin. Alejandro approached slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression blank, his demeanor almost bored, like a man long prepared for this very moment. He stopped directly before her, lowering his head just enough to meet her tear-soaked eyes. And with a voice as cold as steel, he said, “I suppose it was time you knew.”