The dim light of the living room revealed the aftermath. Walker stood frozen, shirt half-buttoned, guilt etched across his face. You stared at the scene—the tangled sheets, the scent of another woman—and your heart shattered

“Y/N,” Walker whispered, his voice raw. “I—” “Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “Don’t say anything.”

He reached for you, but you stepped back. “It was a mistake,” he stammered. “I never meant—” “You never meant to hurt me?” you spat out