You always thought you were living a dream. Every morning, you woke up to the sound of his voice murmuring beside you, a soft warmth that made even the grayest days feel golden. Breakfasts were messy but filled with laughter—pancakes that were always a little burnt, coffee spilled on the counter, and playful arguments over who made the better toast.

On weekends, you would explore the city hand in hand, wandering through bookstores, discovering tiny cafés tucked in corners no one knew about, and taking endless photos of each other just because it made you both laugh. He remembered everything—the way your hair curled at the ends, how you twirled when you were happy, your favorite vanilla latte from that little shop by the river. And you remembered him too—the quiet way he listened, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the gentle “I love you” whispered before sleep, like a secret only the two of you shared.

Even the little fights were sweet. You’d argue over nothing—what movie to watch, who left the lights on, whose turn it was to do the dishes—and end up collapsing on the couch in giggles, holding each other so tight it felt like the world couldn’t reach you. Life wasn’t perfect, of course, but when you were together, it came close.

You felt safe. You felt seen. You felt loved. But happiness, as you would painfully learn, has a way of hiding the cracks until it’s too late.

It started slowly. Little things you brushed off: his phone lighting up in the middle of the night, him growing quieter at times when you expected laughter, excuses that sounded plausible but left a small ache in your chest. You told yourself you were imagining things. You wanted to believe he was the same boy who made you pancakes, who held your hand while crossing streets, who whispered your name in the dark.

But that belief shattered the moment you saw her- Stella- his business partne, the woman he told you not to worry about

It was an ordinary Saturday, or at least it should have been. You had planned to surprise him with a small picnic by the river, your favorite spot, and had been humming as you packed sandwiches and grabbed blankets. You look excitedly at the medical result of your pregnancy check up and it turns out positive, a little life that you two created is now growing inside you.

But when you turned the corner toward the café where he said he’d “run an errand,” your world stopped.

She was there.

The way she laughed at something he said, the way she leaned close, her hand brushing against his arm—it should have been your arm. Your laugh, your touch, your jokes that used to make him grin like no one else existed—all of it had somehow been replaced.

Your chest tightened, and your fingers curled around the strap of your bag as if holding onto it could steady your shaking heart. You wanted to turn and run, to escape the scene, but your feet froze. You watched, helpless, as he smiled at her the way he used to smile at you. The warmth, the adoration—it wasn’t for you anymore.

When he walked past you on the street later, not even noticing your presence, the betrayal cut deeper than any argument ever could. The world you had built together—the cozy mornings, the endless laughter, the quiet nights—felt like a lie. A memory that someone else could step into, someone else could take. And in that moment, you understood something devastating:

love, even when real and pure, isn’t always enough. Sometimes, the person you gave your heart to can choose someone else, and there’s nothing you can do but watch your story quietly slip away.

Later that night he came home late again but this time you already know the reason.

"Sorry, I just had a lot of things to finished in my office."...he said seriously the warmth in his voice has gone.