Chapter 1

I was scrolling through my phone, a mindless habit while waiting for a layer of paint to dry. A new piece was taking shape on the canvas, a landscape from a memory, but my mind was elsewhere. It was on Liam. My Liam. We' d been friends since we were kids, our houses backing up to each other, but just a few months ago, something shifted. We were finally a couple, and the world felt brighter, sharper.

My thumb stopped over a post on a local gossip forum. The headline was vague, "Local Guy Juggling Two Girls?" but it was the picture that made my stomach clench. It was a blurry shot of a guy' s back, but I knew that gray hoodie. I' d bought it for Liam for his birthday last year.

He was standing close to a girl, his arm around her waist. I couldn' t see her face clearly, but her long, blonde hair was unmistakable. The caption was anonymous, a throwaway account. It read, "This guy told my friend he was single, but I know for a fact he has a girlfriend he's known since childhood. He' s taking my friend on a trip this weekend, the same one he promised his 'real' girlfriend."

My heart started to pound, a slow, heavy drum against my ribs. A trip. Liam and I were supposed to go to the mountains this weekend, a trip he' d just canceled last night, claiming his parents needed him for a family thing.

The post was filled with small, specific details. It mentioned a silver necklace he always wore, a gift from his grandmother. It mentioned the coffee shop he frequented, the one right next to my art studio. Every detail was a perfect match, a cruel, precise inventory of my life with Liam. I felt a wave of nausea. The anonymous words on the screen were more real than the smell of oil paint in my studio. My hand started to shake. This couldn't be real. It had to be a mistake, a stupid, cruel joke.

I needed to hear his voice. I needed him to laugh and tell me it was crazy.

I hit his contact, my thumb trembling so badly I almost missed the button. It rang once, twice, three times.

"Hey, Chloe," his voice was smooth, warm, the same voice that had calmed my nerves before every art show.

"Liam, where are you?" I tried to keep my own voice steady, but it came out tight.

"At home, just helping my dad with some stuff in the garage. Why? What' s up?"

A lie. It was so easy, so quick. The post said he was with her, the other woman. The lie hung in the air between us, thick and suffocating.

"I saw something online," I started, my throat feeling dry. "A post. It talked about you, about a trip this weekend."

There was a pause. For a second, I heard a girl' s voice in the background, faint and muffled, before Liam quickly spoke over it.

"Online? Chloe, you know you can' t believe that random stuff. People are crazy." He chuckled, but it sounded forced, tinny. "I told you, I have to help my parents. My mom's not feeling great."

He was doubling down, piling one lie on top of another. His mother wasn't sick. I had just talked to her this morning, she was planning her garden. The disappointment was a physical thing, a cold weight settling deep in my chest. He wasn't even a good liar. He was just a coward.

Suddenly, I remembered a conversation with my best friend, Sarah, from a few weeks ago. We were having coffee, and I was gushing about Liam, about how perfect everything was.

Sarah had looked at me, her expression serious. "Are you sure, Chloe? I mean, he's great, but sometimes... he seems a little too smooth. He says all the right things, but does he do them?"

I had brushed it off. "You're just being protective. He's Liam. I've known him my whole life."

"Knowing someone a long time doesn't mean you know them now," she had said quietly.

I had ignored her. I had chosen to live in the bright, happy world I' d painted for myself, ignoring the warning signs, the little inconsistencies. The times he' d canceled plans at the last minute. The a-little-too-friendly comments he left on other girls' social media. I had ignored all of it. The regret was sharp and bitter.

I ended the call without another word. I didn't need to hear any more lies. Leaning back against the wall, I stared at my half-finished painting. The vibrant colors suddenly seemed dull, lifeless. The man on the canvas of my life, the one I thought was a masterpiece of loyalty and love, was a fraud.

He was a cheap print, a forgery. And for the first time, I saw him clearly. The charm was a mask for manipulation. The sweet words were just a script he used to get what he wanted. The love I thought we had was just... convenience. I felt the first tear slide down my cheek, cold and slow. My heart wasn't just broken, it felt hollowed out.

A shift happened inside me then, a quiet, cold hardening. This wasn't just about a lie, it was about a complete betrayal of our entire history. The grief was immense, but underneath it, a tiny, hard kernel of anger began to form.