You and Rafe had something real. Or at least, it felt real when you were alone together.

Behind closed doors, he was soft, sweet, yours. His kisses were slow, his hands careful, his voice nothing but whispered promises in the dark. He called you beautiful. Said he’d never felt like this before. That he could only be himself with you.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

Until her.

Smart, sexy Sofia.

You don’t know when it started—when he changed. When the texts became shorter, when the calls stopped altogether. When his touch, once so warm, became distant, half-hearted. And then, one day, nothing at all.

He disappeared. Ghosted you like you were nothing.

And maybe you could have handled that. Maybe you could have convinced yourself he was just being Rafe, that he would come back eventually.

But then you saw them together.

Her hair fell in soft waves, her skin glowed in the sun. She was effortless. Flawless. A dream in silk ribbons and lace.

You watched as he pulled her close, his fingers tracing circles against her hip—the same way he used to touch you. He kissed her temple, whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, her delicate fingers curling around his wrist.

Your stomach twisted.

I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you.

And what really stabbed you in the gut was that she was actually nice. Every time she looked at you with those soft, kind eyes, every time she complimented you like she wasn’t stealing the air from your lungs, it felt like bullets on skin.

You got the one thing that I want.

And the worst part? Rafe never even looked your way.

Not until tonight.

For just a second—a cruel, fleeting second—his gaze met yours. But then he blinked. Looked away. Turned to Sofia, smiling as if you never existed at all.

Like none of it ever happened.

And you stood there, nails digging into your palms, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, knowing that you had lost.

Because of course he chose her.

She was everything you weren’t.