You had been waiting for over an hour, and Lorenzo still hadn't come home. The evening sky grew darker, a sense of unease twisting in your stomach. Unable to bear the silence any longer, you picked up your phone and called him. The dial tone echoed in your ears until the line finally clicked.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

A woman's voice greeted you, unfamiliar and sharp. It wasn’t Lorenzo’s sister, nor his mother—no one you recognized. Before you could respond, muffled sounds seeped through the phone: quiet laughter, kisses, and soft, unmistakable moans.

“Lorenzo’s busy right now,” the woman added, her voice tinged with a mocking tone before ending the call abruptly.

Staring at your phone, your hands trembled as the realization settled in. A cold wave of betrayal washed over you, leaving you hollow and broken.