Chapter 2 The night club

Isabella's POV

Jennifer didn't let go of me that night. Even as my sobs began to fade into dry, shaking breaths, she kept holding me like I might disappear if she let go. The room was quiet except for the low hum of traffic outside her window and the occasional sniffling sound I couldn't suppress.

Then she sighed, one of those heavy, knowing sighs. The kind that says, I've seen this before.

"You know," she began, brushing a strand of hair away from my damp cheek, "I hate to say it now, but I always had a feeling about him."

I blinked. "What?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Kelvin," she said, her voice calm but firm. "The first time I met him, back in uni-you remember that house party? You brought him along, and we all played that stupid drinking game..."

I nodded slowly. "Truth or Drink. He got drunk and tried to arm wrestle your cousin."

Jennifer laughed lightly, but the sound held no humor. "Yeah. And when you went to the bathroom, he was already flirting with that girl in the red dress. I saw it, Iz. He leaned in too close. His hand lingered too long on her waist. I told myself maybe he was just friendly, maybe he was drunk. But I clocked it then."

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracked.Jennifer said "Because you were so happy, babe. You looked at him like he hung the damn stars. And I thought-what if I'm wrong? What if I ruin something good because I'm being paranoid? But I watched. I watched the way he talked to other girls when you weren't around. The half-smile. The way he scanned rooms like he was always looking for something-or someone-better."

She looked down for a moment, then back at me. "But I didn't have proof. And I knew you'd only see it when you were ready."

I stared at her. The betrayal I'd just endured suddenly felt even heavier, because now it wasn't just Kelvin's lies I had to mourn-it was all the moments I'd gaslighted myself into believing he was loyal.

Jennifer could see it on my face, the pain, the confusion, the anger.

"Listen to me, Iz," she said, her voice low, fierce, protective. "You gave that man five years. Five good years. You were loyal, kind, patient-even when he didn't deserve it. But this? This is your wake-up call. You've cried your heart out. Now it's time to start healing. Piece by piece."

I shook my head, not quite ready. "I feel... disgusting. Worthless. Like I wasn't enough."

She cut me off sharply. "Don't ever say that again. He didn't cheat because of you. He cheated because he's weak. That's not your reflection, Isabella. That's his."

That night, after everything-the tears, the texts, the weight of betrayal still hanging on me like a second skin-I couldn't sit still in Jennifer's house anymore. I needed to breathe. To forget. Even just for a few hours.

So I went home. I showered, put on a dess I hadn't worn in years.

I stood in front of the mirror, taking a deep breath as I stared at my reflection. The pain from what I saw with Kelvin still burned deep in my chest-him, laughing and touching someone else like I never mattered. But tonight wasn't about him. Tonight was about me reclaiming my worth, reminding myself that I'm valuable, desired, and unforgettable.

I slipped into the black, body-hugging dress I'd picked out earlier-the one that stopped just above my knees and clung to every curve I had. The fabric was smooth and slightly sheer in places, teasing just enough skin to make a statement without saying a word. The plunging neckline showed off the delicate curve of my collarbone and the subtle swell of my cleavage. I ran my fingers over the thin straps, adjusting them, feeling the slight chill of the cool material against my warm skin.

Next came the heels-those killer stilettos that added inches to my legs and made me feel taller, stronger. They were glossy black, with a sharp pointed toe that made every step feel like I was owning the world. I painted my nails a deep crimson, the same shade as my lipstick, bold and unapologetic.

I grabbed my clutch, small but elegant, and slipped on a pair of gold hoop earrings that caught the light just right. My hair cascaded in loose waves over my shoulders, framing my face softly but with that hint of wildness, like I was ready to take on anything.

As I looked at myself one last time, I felt a surge of something fierce and unstoppable. This outfit wasn't just clothes-it was armor. It was my way of saying, "I'm here. I'm worth more than betrayal. And tonight, I'm going to make sure every man in that club knows exactly what they're missing."

I was done feeling small. Tonight, I was fire.

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I didn't care tonight. I just wanted to feel like a woman again. Not someone discarded. Not someone who was lied to. Just... desired.The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with music, perfume, and bodies brushing against each other. I found a seat at the counter and ordered a drink-vodka, straight. Then another. And another. I wasn't counting. I was numbing.

As I sat there, half-lost in the hum of the bass, I couldn't help but notice the women on the dance floor. The way their hips moved, the curve of their dresses clinging to their bodies like second skin. They laughed, they swayed, they owned their space. Men couldn't take their eyes off them.

I felt something stir inside me-something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Desire.

Hunger.

That deep ache of needing to be wanted... to be touched. Not loved. Not tonight. Just... seen.

That's when I saw him. In the VIP lounge-seated alone, a glass in his hand, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. Salt-and-pepper beard. Strong jaw. His presence screamed power, but his eyes were tired, distant. He looked like the world had chewed him up and spat him out that day. I understood that look. Pain recognizes pain.

I don't know what got into me, but I stood up, walked toward him, and locked eyes with him before I even said a word. He looked surprised, amused even, but he didn't resist when I slid into the seat beside him.

"Rough day?" I asked.

He chuckled bitterly. "You could say that."

We didn't exchange names. Didn't ask questions. We just drank. Talked about nothing. I laughed too loud. He stared too long. I touched his hand. He didn't pull away.

I leaned in and whispered, "Dance with me."

He hesitated, then followed.

On the dance floor, my body moved like it had forgotten it belonged to someone heartbroken. I felt alive-his hands on my waist, his breath against my neck. There was no pretense, no future to consider. Just two broken strangers clinging to a moment that felt real.

The club pulsed with bass and bodies. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, but all I wanted was to disappear into the chaos. I danced like I was trying to exorcise him from my skin, like I could sweat him out of my soul. And then I felt someone behind me-tall, warm, confident hands that didn't ask, just moved with me. A stranger.

He didn't say much, but his eyes lingered. His fingers brushed the small of my back, then slid lower when the beat dropped. Maybe I should've pushed him away. Maybe I should've remembered who I was before the betrayal. But instead, I leaned in.

We danced until the world blurred. I let myself get drunk-on vodka, on music, on the dangerous thrill of being wanted again. We kissed near the bar. I tasted whiskey on his lips and forgot, for a moment, what Kelvin's betrayal felt like.

At some point, someone called a car. I don't remember if it was him or me, but I do remember the hotel lobby spinning as we stumbled through it, laughing like we were in some wild movie. His hand never left mine.

The room was dim, expensive, impersonal. I stared at the bed for a second too long. I almost left. But then he kissed me again, and I let go.

It wasn't about him. It was never about the stranger. It was about erasing Kelvin's ghost from my skin, proving to myself that I still had power, that I could choose me. The sex wasn't love-it wasn't even connection-it was escape. It was reckless and messy and exactly what I needed in that shattered moment.

The morning came too early. My head throbbed, my dress was on the floor, and the stranger was already awaky.He left without waking me. No name. No number. Just a silence that followed me all the way home.And somehow, for the first time in days... I didn't feel like Kelvin owned my body anymore.

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