Chapter 7 Shattered Trust

Liana had never been the type to snoop. She believed in boundaries, privacy, in the sanctity of trust. She believed that when someone loved you, they didn't give you reasons to question them-only space to believe in them. But tonight, something felt different-off, brittle. Like something fragile was about to break.

The apartment was too quiet.

Ryan had said he'd be home late-"working on a product pitch," he'd texted, ending with a winking emoji and a casual love you. But it was after ten, and Liana had been staring at the same spreadsheet for over an hour, not taking in a single number. Her eyes burned from the screen, but she couldn't pull herself away.

A strange sensation prickled at her skin-not panic, not jealousy. Something colder. A dull ache that told her she was no longer imagining things. This wasn't insecurity. It was instinct.

Her gaze drifted to his laptop bag by the front door. He hadn't taken it with him. Odd. Ryan never went to work without it. That bag was his lifeline-filled with half-coded ideas and meetings turned dreams. He even took it to brunch.

Her pulse quickened.

That bag also held the last six months of their shared life-commutes, coffee dates, late-night coding sessions he'd claimed to be consumed by. Lately, he'd been more married to his startup than to her. And yet, he'd forgotten the one day that might have reminded her she mattered-her birthday.

She reached for the bag before she could second-guess herself.

The laptop was locked. Of course, it was. But Ryan wasn't as careful as he liked to think. After three guesses-his birthday, then hers, then the name of his startup-it opened with a soft click. The sound made her flinch.

She hesitated.

"This isn't you, a voice inside whispered.

But another voice, louder and sharper, hissed back: He's hiding something. You know it.

With a deep breath, she clicked into his messages. Slack. Then emails. Her heart pounded harder with each scroll. And then she saw it-dozens of messages from a woman named Madison.

Madison.

A UX lead at his company. She'd met her once-at a launch party six months ago. Petite, clever, always laughing a little too hard at Ryan's jokes. There had been a look in her eyes, then. Curious. Bold. Possessive. Liana had noticed it and tucked it away. Told herself she was being ridiculous.

Now, the screen told her otherwise.

The messages weren't overtly romantic, but they didn't have to be. It was the intimacy-the quiet confessions, the inside jokes, the late-night musings that always ended with wish you were here. The kind of messages you sent to someone who wasn't just a friend.

One photo stopped her cold.

Madison at a bar, holding up a cocktail with two straws, captioned:

Wish you were here. Missed you today.

The timestamp? Last Friday.

Liana blinked, her fingers icy against the trackpad.

Last Friday.

The night Ryan had canceled dinner with her at the last minute, saying he was tied up with back-to-back investor meetings. The night he'd promised to make it up to her. The night he didn't say happy birthday, didn't come home until late and had smelled faintly of citrus and cologne that wasn't his.

Her eyes burned. She closed the laptop with shaking hands, her mind racing.

This wasn't a flirtation. This wasn't harmless. This was a betrayal-slow, subtle, insidious. The kind that crept in through the cracks and quietly rotted the foundation.

Her phone buzzed.

Ryan: On my way back. Sorry, late at night. Want me to grab Thai?

Liana stared at the screen. The gall of him.

Thai food-as if takeout could smooth over a month's worth of gut instincts, of growing distance, of sleeping back-to-back in the same bed but living in entirely different worlds.

She didn't respond.

Instead, she stood, walked to the bedroom, and pulled out her small navy duffel from under the bed. Her movements were mechanical, detached. Grey sweater. Jeans. Toothbrush. Phone charger. The bare essentials. Everything else felt heavy now.

The door opened twenty minutes later. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, bag beside her, her face unreadable.

"Hey, babe," Ryan called cheerfully. He walked in like nothing was wrong, swinging a brown paper bag that smelled of ginger and lemongrass. "You won't believe how long that pitch ran. CEO kept changing-"

"Who's Madison?" she asked quietly.

He froze mid-step.

"What?" he said too quickly, voice pitching up.

"Madison," she repeated. "From your team.

The one who sends you selfies and says she misses you on Fridays you're supposed to be with me."

Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. The stillness was louder.

Ryan laughed nervously. "Wait-hold on. You went through my stuff?"

"You left it here." Her tone was flat. Controlled.

"What else was I supposed to do when everything in my gut told me something was wrong?"

"You can't just go through my messages, Liana. That's a violation. Do you even hear yourself?"

She stood. "Don't gaslight me, Ryan. Don't twist this into me breaking your trust when you already shattered mine."

"I'm not sleeping with her," he said, too fast. "We're just-close."

"You don't have to be sleeping with her," she said. "Because you've already given her what matters. Time. Attention. Affection. Everything I've been begging for while you've been 'too busy'."

He set the food down with a huff. "You're being paranoid. Madison's just a friend."

"Then why lie about Friday?"

He didn't answer.

Liana's voice softened, but her eyes were steel. "Ryan... did you cheat on me?"

Silence. And then-just the barest tilt of his head. Not a nod. Not quite. But enough.

Liana felt the air leave her lungs.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," he mumbled. "It was just once. We were drunk. It didn't mean anything-"

"That's the problem, Ryan." Her voice cracked, and her composure slipped for the first time as tears welled in her eyes. "It meant nothing to you. But it's destroying everything to me."

He stepped toward her, voice urgent. "Li, come on. Don't do this. We can fix this-"

She stepped back. "No, Ryan. You broke it. You broke us."

"People make mistakes!" he cried, growing desperate now. "I've been under so much pressure-"

"So you cheated?" Her voice was sharp now. "Because the launch was hard? Because I wasn't enough of a distraction?"

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

She picked up her bag and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, voice small. Childlike.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Anywhere but here."

She turned the knob.

"Liana-wait."

She paused, looking back over her shoulder. One tear slipped down her cheek.

"You had all of me," she whispered. "And it still wasn't enough."

Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

It didn't slam.

It didn't need to.

The silence on the other side said everything.

Outside, the night air was crisp, almost biting. Liana stood on the stoop for a moment, breathing it in, letting it sting her lungs. Her bag hung from her shoulder, heavier now. Not because of what it held, but because of what she was leaving behind.

A version of her that kept waiting to be chosen. Loved properly. Fully.

She walked slowly down the street, her legs unsteady but her direction clear. Her heart ached, but underneath the grief was something steadier. Sharper.

Resolve.

She didn't know where she was going yet. But she knew what she was walking away from. And that, finally, was enough.