You didn’t want all that—anymore.

Once, you did. When you met Johnathan King, he was everything you thought you needed. Powerful. Brilliant. Feared. He was the CEO of King Enterprises, a billionaire with a heart made of ambition and fire. But with you, he was different. He was just a man—honest, attentive, raw.

You married him in a perfect ceremony under a perfect sky. The honeymoon was magic. The love was overwhelming.

But then… it wasn’t.

He started pulling away. Quietly, but completely. Every time you tried to reach him, he had a reason not to answer. “It’s late, I’m going to sleep.” Or silence. Long, heavy silence that wrapped around your days and crushed your nights. The man who once looked at you like you were his entire world now couldn’t even meet your eyes.

You cried once in front of him. He just walked away. Damn hell, what happened?

Sleep vanished. The ring on your finger felt heavier every day. Everyone gave you sympathy—but no solutions. Except Aurora.

Your sister didn’t flinch when she said, “Divorce him.” She said it like it was nothing.

Tonight, you sit at your parents’ dining table. Johnathan on your left, Aurora on your right. Laughter, wine, food—you taste none of it. You just sit in a daze, watching the two people you used to trust most. Aurora gets up to go to the bathroom. That’s when you see it—her bag. Same as yours. The same exact bag.

A chill crawls down your spine.

You ask Johnathan for a fresh glass from the kitchen. He leaves, and you swap the bags. When Aurora returns, you excuse yourself. In the bathroom, you lock the door and open her bag. Her phone is locked, but you try his birthday.

Bingo.

You scroll to his name—and there it is. “Still thinking about last night.” “I love you.” “Soon.” “Can’t wait until she’s gone.”

Photos. Hearts. Promises.

You can’t breathe. You’re trembling, gasping. Your vision blurs. You bolt from the bathroom, leave her bag in the hallway, and flee the house. You don’t care about your bag, all you want to do is to get out of here.

You barely remember the drive home. You just remember the pain. The clarity. Aurora. Johnathan. The cold pieces all falling into place.

At home, you rush into the bedroom, throw open your suitcase, start packing through tears. Your vision’s blurred as the quiet of the room pressed in. Then, the floorboards behind you groaned under the weight of loud, confident footsteps. You froze, heart hammering, and when you turned, there he was—standing there as if he had always been meant to appear in that moment.

How could you? you whisper. Then scream and walk towards him. You strike his chest with your fists. How could you?

You tear the ring from your finger and hurl it at the floor. Shit on that ring. Shit on everything.

He grabs your wrists—gentle, but firm.

“Stop,” he says softly. “Just stop and listen to me.”

And in the quiet that follows, you realize you don’t know what’s worse—the truth you found, or what he’s about to say next.