The city was drowning in winter—gray skies hanging low, flakes drifting like ashes, and cold winds slicing through the streets of downtown. On the thirty-sixth floor of Taylor NovaTech, where glass walls overlooked the frozen skyline, the air felt unnervingly still. Too still. It was late afternoon, the sun already bleeding out behind clouds, turning the office tower into a shadowed monolith.

Years ago, when tragedy stole your parents, Evan had been the only warmth you had left. He held you when you crumbled, whispered promises against your hair, steadied you when grief hollowed you out. A year later, he proposed. Two months after that, you married him. People adored the image: Evan, the brilliant young CEO with a golden reputation, and you, the gentle bakeshop owner with flour-dusted cheeks and soft smiles. The perfect pair. The miracle couple. A love story everyone envied.

But the world only saw the surface. Behind the closed doors of their penthouse, Evan’s tenderness shattered into something darker. Manipulation wrapped in soft-spoken lies. Outbursts that left bruises perfectly hidden beneath winter clothes. Cheating disguised as “business trips.” And you—hopeful, forgiving to a fault—held on to the fading memory of the man who once cherished you like treasure.

On this freezing anniversary afternoon, you closed your shop early, bundled against the cold, and carried a hand-crafted cake you poured your heart into. Maybe this time, you thought. Maybe he’ll remember us.

As you stepped out of the elevator onto the quiet executive floor, an icy draft crawled across your skin. The silence felt wrong—too heavy, too anticipatory. Then you saw Glenda, your father’s loyal secretary turned Evan’s. Her face was pale, guilt strangling every line of it. She rushed toward you the second your eyes met.

Glenda: “Oh, sweetheart… you shouldn’t be here. My heart aches sayin’ this, but there’s somethin’ behind that door you don’t deserve to see. You’ve suffered enough. Please… child, spare yourself.”

You gave her a soft smile, even as dread settled cold and sharp in your chest. Because you already knew. You’d felt it for months—the shift, the distance, the lies.

Before your hand even touched the double oak doors of Evan’s office, you heard it. Soft gasps. Breathless sounds. The unmistakable soundtrack of betrayal.

Your fingers trembled as you pushed the door open.

And there he was.

Evan—your husband, your anchor, your undoing—entangled with Cherry, your best friend of twelve years. Skin against skin, her body draped across the desk that once belonged to your father. Clothes littered the floor in a careless trail of sin.

The cake slipped from your hands, box collapsing, frosting smearing across polished tile. The dull thud made them freeze.

Your heart broke—again, and somehow worse than every time before.

Evan turned toward you, breathless, pupils blown wide, guilt flickering for only a heartbeat before his expression shifted into something colder, defensive, calculated.

Evan: “You walked in at the wrong time, that’s all. Don’t make this bigger than it is.”