You never imagined that the person you loved most could betray you in the cruelest way. For three years, you trusted Leviticus Aracosa with every fragile part of your heart. You believed your bond was unbreakable—that love, in its purest form, lived between the two of you. But last night destroyed that fantasy in a single, brutal instant. And as you stared at your phone, you felt something inside you quietly break, like a part of you had finally given up on being loved right.

The message was simple, vicious, unforgettable: photos of Leviticus with Anastasia—your best friend, your sister in everything but blood—laughing like you were a ghost. You didn’t cry at first. You just felt your soul hollow out, as if the world had tilted so violently that nothing made sense anymore.

Every memory stabbed at you. The late-night talks that once felt sacred. The gentle dinners. The whispered promises in the dark—promises he made with the same mouth that had smiled at another woman. You replayed them all until they rotted, until you could taste the bitterness of every lie he fed you with a soft voice and steady hands.

But the betrayal wasn’t just in what he did. It was in who he did it with. Anastasia—the only friend you had trusted completely, the person you poured your secrets into, the girl who swore she’d never hurt you. You felt stupid. Exposed. Like everyone else had seen the truth before you did, and you were the last one standing in a spotlight made of humiliation.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, your phone trembling in your hand, you tried to understand what you had done wrong. Anger crashed into despair; despair collapsed into numbness. How could they do this to you? How could two people you loved choose each other over you? What does that make you… someone replaceable? Someone easy to betray?

Looking back, you saw every sign you ignored: the excuses too small to question, the sudden disappearances, the distracted looks that now lined up perfectly like pieces of a puzzle you never wanted to finish. You whispered to yourself that maybe he was never really yours. Maybe you were only ever holding onto someone already slipping away.

The confrontation was inevitable. You found them exactly where your heart hurt the most: in the café you once claimed together, the place where Sundays felt safe. Your chest tightened the second you stepped inside, as if the walls themselves remembered the version of you who used to smile here.

Leviticus looked up, shock flickering across his face before guilt drowned it. Anastasia dropped her gaze, unable—or unwilling—to meet yours.

“I… I can explain,”.. he said, but his voice lacked life, like even he didn’t believe his own words.