Chapter 3

Audrey POV:

"Did you hear that Brandon Cervantes was arrested once? For Kristal Gibson." The words, spoken by a woman who had lingered, now echoed in the deserted clubhouse. She looked at me, a strange mixture of pity and gossip in her eyes.

"Years ago," she continued, her voice lowered conspiratorially, "he got into a bar fight. Some guy was harassing Kristal, and Brandon just lost it. Ended up spending a night in jail. He's always been so protective of her." She shook her head, as if marveling at his devotion, then finally turned and walked away, leaving me utterly alone in the pouring rain.

My mind reeled. Arrested? For Kristal? Brandon had told me he'd been arrested once, years ago, but he'd said it was for a minor misunderstanding, a case of mistaken identity at a charity event gone wrong. He'd laughed it off, said it was nothing. Another lie.

I thought of my own past, the terror of that attempted kidnapping. The fear that still clawed at me, even years later. I'd begged him to take self-defense classes with me, to help me feel safer. He'd said he was "too busy," or "it's not a real threat, Audrey." He'd given me a small pepper spray once, a casual afterthought, saying, "Here, for your peace of mind." But his actions consistently told me my peace of mind was secondary, if it ranked at all.

I had always seen Brandon as a pillar of strength, steady and reliable. My rock. But now, that image was cracking, crumbling under the weight of his casual betrayals. Each new revelation, each whispered memory of him and Kristal, stripped away another layer of the man I thought I knew. Was he truly a man who had grown, or was I just not worth the same devotion he offered her?

The sky had grown darker, the rain turning from a drizzle to a relentless downpour. It felt like the heavens were weeping with me. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the cold rainwater, blurring my vision. My heart ached, a deep, hollow pain.

I had to pull myself together. The thought of that empty velvet box, the necklace meant for Kristal, still stung. I had to go back inside, officially accept the award, represent him. Even now, he expected me to clean up his mess.

I walked back into the almost empty hall, my clothes clinging to me, my hair dripping. A few tournament officials looked at me with sympathetic eyes. I forced a smile, my face stiff. I accepted the trophy, a heavy, cold piece of metal, like the one in my chest.

As I made my way back to the now completely deserted parking lot, I saw it. Brandon' s car. He was just pulling away. Kristal was in the passenger seat, hunched over, looking small and fragile. Brandon' s hand rested protectively on her arm, his face etched with concern. He didn't see me. He didn' t even glance in my direction. He was already gone.

He was gone.

And he had left me. Again.

I remembered the pepper spray he had given me. It suddenly felt ironic, a cruel joke. The man who was supposed to protect me had just abandoned me, leaving me vulnerable not just to the storm, but to the lingering shadows of my past trauma.

He cared so much about Kristal' s twisted ankle, that he wouldn't even consider the very real danger he left me in. The storm was getting worse. The thought of the rideshare car, the tinted windows, the stranger behind the wheel, made my stomach churn. My hands began to tremble.

He asked me why those shoes were so important. He didn't understand. He never did.

"Audrey, what's wrong with the shoes?" he had asked, his voice laced with impatience.

We were in his office a few weeks ago. He was on a call, and I was trying on the delicate, pearlescent heels I'd found online. They were perfect. The softest leather, a tiny sapphire embedded in the sole, a subtle "something blue" for our reception. They weren't flashy, not like the diamond necklace. They were chosen with care, with love, with a hope for a future that now seemed to crumble with every passing minute.

"They're my wedding shoes, Brandon," I had said, my voice soft, but full of meaning.

He had barely looked up from his screen. "Those old things? They look... used. Are you sure you don't want a new pair? Something really flashy?"

He had dismissed them. Dismissed my dream, my quiet joy in planning our formal reception, the one that would finally solidify our five years together.

Now, Kristal, with her feigned helplessness, her twisted ankle, was wearing my pristine white shoes. I had seen her in them, just as Brandon drove her away. It was a new pair of white sneakers, which I had just bought and left near the door. The ones I was going to wear tonight, to feel comfortable as I danced with him. But no, she needed them more. Brandon had probably told her to take them without a second thought.

"Why are these shoes so important, Audrey?" he had asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, as if my sentimentality was a foreign language. "They're just shoes."

Just shoes. Just a wedding reception. Just a wife. It was all "just" to him.

Kristal, on the other hand, was never "just" anything.

I thought back to her innocent eyes, her fragile posture. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Audrey," she had said, her voice dripping with insincere apology. "I didn't mean to take your shoes. I'm just so clumsy." She had even offered to buy me a new pair. As if a new pair of shoes could erase the sting of his indifference, her calculated manipulation.

I had spent weeks searching for those sneakers. Hiking through stores, comparing brands, looking for something that perfectly blended comfort and subtle elegance. I had envisioned myself dancing in them at our long-awaited reception, with Brandon, my husband, the man I loved. My heart ached with the image of that forgotten dream.

He seemed to possess a boundless capacity for ignoring my feelings, for belittling my choices. But for Kristal, he was a bottomless well of understanding and sympathy. The scales were so clearly tipped. His heart, his loyalty, his very essence, leaned so heavily in her direction.

A deep sigh escaped my lips. There was no point in holding onto this phantom hope. This man, the one I had married, the one I had loved, was not the man I thought he was. He was a mirage, a cruel trick of the light.

My mind was made up. He had chosen. And now, so would I. I was about to open my mouth, to articulate the finality of my decision, to him, to the universe.