Chapter 3

The journey home was a blur, a suffocating nightmare of turbulent air and an even more turbulent mind. Sleep, when it finally claimed me, was a cruel tormentor. Images of Eric and Janessa, entwined and laughing, flashed behind my eyelids. Their dog, the one I'd unknowingly funded, frolicked around them. I saw them sharing meals, sharing secrets, sharing their lives – lives I was supposed to be a part of. Every intimate detail I' d witnessed played on an endless loop, each frame more painful than the last.

I woke with a gasp, my body rigid, a cold sweat plastering my hair to my forehead. My pillow was soaked, not just with sweat, but with bitter, silent tears. My friends, who had been waiting for my return, rushed to my side, their faces etched with concern.

"Claire! You're finally awake!" Ava said, relief flooding her voice. "Are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep."

"What happened?" Liam asked, his brow furrowed. "Did the proposal go well? We' re dying to see pictures, videos!"

A sharp pain shot through my head, a dull throb behind my eyes. The casual questions, the eager anticipation for news of my "engagement," felt like a fresh wound. I had kept my plan a secret, wanting to surprise everyone with the joyous news. Now, the surprise was on me, and it was a gut punch that left me breathless.

"The proposal..." I started, my voice hoarse, then trailed off. How could I tell them? How could I articulate the sheer devastation of what I' d witnessed? That my love, my loyalty, my entire future had been a carefully constructed lie?

I forced a brittle smile, a mask to hide the gaping wound in my soul. "It didn't go as planned," I managed, the words tasting like ash. "Eric and I... we talked. We decided to take some space." It was a lie, a pathetic attempt to save face, to spare them the horror of the truth.

My friends, sensing my distress, exchanged worried glances but didn't push. "Oh, honey," Ava said, pulling me into a gentle hug. "Whatever it is, we're here for you." They lingered for a bit, offering comfort, then slowly left, giving me the space I so desperately craved.

I couldn' t tell them. Not yet. The shame, the humiliation, the sheer magnitude of the betrayal was too heavy to share. It felt like a poisonous secret, burning a hole in my chest. My head throbbed, a relentless drumbeat of pain.

I dragged myself out of bed, a zombie fueled by anger and a desperate need for air. As I stood on the balcony, toothbrush in hand, staring out at the familiar New York skyline, my phone rang. Eric.

The picture on the screen showed him holding my favorite coffee mug, the one I' d left at his apartment months ago. His eyes, usually so warm and loving, now seemed to hold a chilling emptiness. A shiver ran down my spine. How dare he? How dare he appear in my life, after what I' d seen, after what I' d heard?

He was calling, his voice tinged with false concern. "Claire-bear? Are you okay? Your friends told me you fainted. What happened? Talk to me."

He was back to his carefully crafted persona, the devoted boyfriend, the concerned partner. He had just been with Janessa, whispering sweet nothings, planning their future, and now he was here, acting as if nothing had happened. It was sickening.

My friends, hearing Eric's voice, cheered from inside. "Go get him, Claire! He sounds worried sick!"

I walked downstairs mechanically, my bare feet hitting the cold floorboards with a dull thud. Eric rushed towards me, his brows furrowed. "Claire! Why aren't you wearing shoes, honey? You'll catch a cold." He scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me to the plush sofa, his touch now feeling utterly repulsive.

"You're so careless sometimes," he chided gently, his voice laced with mock affection. "But don't worry, once we're living together, I'll make sure you never forget your shoes again."

His words, meant to be comforting, were a cruel joke. Living together? The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was living with Janessa. He had been for years.

He noticed my silence, my stiff posture. "What's wrong, baby? Are you mad at me? Is it because I didn't answer your calls last night? I told you, I was celebrating, and I drank too much. I'm so sorry, Claire. I really am." He stroked my hair, his touch sending shivers of disgust down my spine. "I even got you your favorite cheesecake from that bakery, and these beautiful roses." He gestured to a box on the coffee table.

My control snapped. The cheesecake, the roses, the fake remorse-it was all too much. I snatched the cheesecake box and flung it at him, the creamy dessert splattering across his pristine white shirt. Then I grabbed the roses, their thorns pricking my skin, and hurled them too, the petals scattering like my shattered dreams.

"Do you think I'm a fool, Eric?!" The words tore from my throat, raw and anguished. "Do you think I'm an idiotic, blind fool?!" My voice was shaking, my body trembling with a rage I hadn't known I possessed.

He stood there, stunned, cheesecake dripping from his face, rose petals sticking to his hair. My gaze, however, was fixed on his left hand. Gleaming on his ring finger was a simple, silver band. A promise ring. The same one I' d seen on Janessa' s finger in those photos on his burner phone. Their promise.

A cold, hard realization settled in my gut. He wasn't just stringing me along for money. He was actively maintaining a double life, wearing a symbol of his commitment to Janessa, even as he feigned devotion to me.

Eric slowly wiped the cheesecake from his face, a practiced smile returning. "Claire, what's gotten into you? Are you feeling unwell? Is it stress from work? Tell me, my love. I'm here for you. We'll get through anything, together." He took a step towards me, his hand reaching out. "We can take that trip next month, go somewhere quiet, just us. I' ll go pick up some more of your favorite snacks, okay? I even picked up some new clothes for Janessa, she' s been wanting them for ages, you know how hard it is to get her to shop for herself."

That name. It felt like a knife twisting in the wound. New clothes for Janessa, bought with my money, while he promised me a future that didn't exist. He turned, presumably to clean himself up, or to fetch more 'comfort' items.

I moved before I could think, my hand shooting out and connecting with his cheek with a resounding slap. The sound cracked through the silence of the room, sharp and decisive.

"You are beyond shameless, Eric Williams," I spat, my voice barely a whisper. "Beyond disgusting."

The world swam. The rage, the pain, the humiliation-it was all too overwhelming. My vision blurred, my knees gave way. I felt myself falling, falling into a bottomless abyss. Eric, startled by the slap, instinctively reached out, catching me just before I hit the ground. But his touch, once a comfort, now felt like a violation.