Chapter 2 Yara's POV

I kept walking, streams of tears pouring down my face.

Where was I going? I didn't know. I just knew I couldn't return to that house-not after the slap, not after the betrayal. Nathan had hit me. After everything. After he cheated.

I only had one dream and that was becoming an artist that could brighten up any dark room with her painting but Nathan killed that dream and told me to be a housewife and do nothing.

I became the housewife he wanted and fooled myself into believing that he loved me so much that he didn't want me to stress myself in the name of work.

I would brag about my husband to my best friend all the time not knowing she's the real woman in his heart. They all had me fooled.

Three years of being a fool.

Three years of loneliness, Three years of holding on to hope, of telling myself he was just busy, of ignoring the ache that grew louder each night I reached for him and found only cold sheets. I told myself I could endure anything for love.

But tonight... Tonight shattered every last illusion.

I wandered aimlessly, letting the city swallow me whole. Lights blurred. Faces passed. But I felt invisible. Alone.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

"You can come home now. I'm leaving the house for you. We need some time apart."

So, that was it? Time apart? Or just a nice way of saying he was off to be with Elena and their baby?

I stared at the screen until the words lost meaning. My chest clenched as something inside me cracked open-not just sadness, but something darker. Emptier. A need to feel something. Anything other than pain.

That's when the idea hit me. I didn't want to cry anymore. I didn't want to sit in silence with my thoughts and loneliness echoing off the walls. No. I needed noise. Music. Bodies. Distraction.

I needed to feel alive.

After what felt like hours of aimless walking, I finally made my way back to our apartment, the silence and emptiness suffocating me.

I couldn't bear the thought of staying there, but I knew I couldn't go out like this – my clothes disheveled, my face streaked with tears. I changed into a club dress, the tight fabric and bright color a stark contrast to the numbness I felt inside.

I went out and flagged down a taxi, the neon lights of the city reflecting off the wet pavement as I slid into the backseat, I gave the driver the address of the club, the familiar thump of music already calling to me like a siren's song.

The drive was a blur, my mind was numb, but my body seemed to know exactly where it was going – toward noise, toward distraction, toward oblivion.

---

The club was warm and pulsing with energy, bodies swaying in a blur of color and rhythm. I sank into the crowd, letting the bass thump through my bones like a second heartbeat.

I ordered a shot. Then another. The burn was welcome-sharp, real.

That's when I noticed him.

A man, tall and intense, watching me with a look that was more curiosity than hunger. When he walked over, I almost told him to leave. But something about his calm, grounded energy stopped me.

As I looked into Jason's eyes, I felt a spark of surprise.

Most men would have leered or made a move by now, but he simply watched me, his gaze steady and calm. It was...soothing.

"I'm not here for a man," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to convince myself more than him.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "That's fair," he said, his voice low and gentle. "Maybe you just needed to be seen."

Something about his words resonated deep within me. Maybe it was the kindness in his voice or the way he listened without judgment. Whatever it was, it made me feel...understood.

I took a sip of my drink, the liquor burning down my throat as I struggled to find the right words. "My husband cheated," I said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush. "With my best friend. She's pregnant...or at least, she says she is. And he hit me. Just once. But that's all it took."

As I spoke, Jason's expression changed, his jaw tightening in a way that made me feel both angry on my behalf and grateful for his empathy. "You didn't deserve that," he said softly, his words wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

I exhaled shakily, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I don't even know why I told you that," I admitted, looking away.

"Because you needed to say it," He replied, his voice full of conviction. "And maybe I needed to hear it."

At that moment, something shifted. It wasn't just about sharing my pain; it was about being heard, being seen. And his calm, gentle energy made me feel like I could trust him, just a little.

I smiled a little. "So you... Are you here for women?"

"Not really. But I won't lie-I'm here for you." He teased with a half-smile.

I rolled my eyes. "I figured. You seem like that type."

"No, really. I'm actually in the city to find my older brother."

"Find?" I repeated, surprised.

"Not in a bad way," he chuckled. "We grew up apart. He was the mistress's son so it got a little bit complicated. But I need to find him now... to say goodbye to our father."

"Oh. That's... unexpected." I blinked, then smiled. "So how will you find him in this big city?"

"Thanks to the media, I found out that he now controls a big empire that belongs to his wife's father so I found his address on the Internet also." He exhaled sharply.

"How about we both dance our sorrows away, Mr...?"

I wiggled my fingers at his face.

"Jason. Jason Caldwell," he replied in a low, husky voice.

"All right then-let's dance."

And just like that, the air between us changed. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just... charged. Like we were two lonely souls, orbiting pain, reaching out for something warm. Something human.

I held his hand and we both found our way into the crowd. Lights pulsed overhead, flashing in sync with the heavy bass.

Jason's eyes locked onto me-trailing over my golden-brown curls bouncing around my shoulders.

My green eyes searched his face, and I caught the moment his breath hitched.

The dress I wore clung to every curve. The slit along my thigh revealed smooth, fair toned skin that made his pupils darken. I guess I still have my charm intact.

Finally, he leaned close and murmured, "You look stunning."

A soft blush spread across my cheeks. "Thanks."

His hands slid to my waist and pulled me close and placed his hand on my ass then whispered "Can I?"

"I don't think you need permission when your hands are already on my bum." We both laughed it off.

"I don't want to take advantage of your pain. Are you sure about all this?" He asked me and I nodded without hesitation.

He squeezed my ass gently and leaned his face on my neck.

A silent moan escaped my lips. Oh God, I was already soaking wet from just his touch.

Maybe it was the atmosphere. Or maybe it was the fact that no man had touched me in three years. Either way, I couldn't stop myself. I moved his hand away from my ass and brought his face out of my neck.

I turned my ass, bent low, and rolled my hips to the beat. His hand rested on my back, rocking my body in sync with his.

Then, his hand slowly trailed up my spine to my chest. I wasn't wearing a bra, and I knew he could feel my nipples beneath the silk.

"What a lovely melon you've got here, damsel," he whispered, teasingly fondling my nipple.

I stopped him and tried to hold back what I was feeling. I wanted to remain faithful to my husband since I haven't signed the divorce papers yet. "You are still married, Yara." I reminded myself.

He noticed I was trying to pull away from him so he slowly rubbed my thigh and buried his face on my neck.

Damn. I couldn't hold back anymore.

I turned to face him. Even his stare made me ache. I wanted him. Badly. I wanted to feel his dick inside me.

I kissed him softly on the lips, then moved to his neck and whispered, "I want you, Jason."