Chapter 3 The Beginning of Lies

POV: Liza

"Babe, are you coming home for dinner?" Liza typed quickly, standing in her small kitchen still in her work clothes, stirring pasta sauce while keeping an eye on the bread in the oven.

No reply.

She checked the clock. 7:42 PM. Drew was always home by 6:30-7:00 at the latest. She took a deep breath and put down her phone.

Maybe he got caught up with work.

Maybe he's tired.

The food was ready, candles were lit. The table was set. She even put on the dress he liked-the one with tiny blue flowers.

But the chair across from her remained empty.

POV: Drew

He looked at Liza's message... and ignored it.

He was in Brie's apartment-small, messy, filled with incense, music, and something wild.

She sat on the floor, drinking red wine in nothing but a robe. Her laugh was infectious. Her eyes, daring.

"You keep checking your phone," Brie said, sipping. "Worried wifey's waiting?"

"She's not my wife," Drew said quickly.

Brie raised an eyebrow. "Not yet."

Drew dropped his phone onto the couch. "She doesn't know anything. It's fine."

Brie crawled over and whispered against his neck.

"That's the beauty of secrets. They're only dangerous when told."

POV: Liza (Next Morning)

Drew came home past midnight, reeking of beer and lies. But Liza only asked, "Long day?"

He kissed her on the forehead, didn't answer.

Liza smiled. "I packed lunch for you."

He just nodded.

Later, as he stepped into the shower, she sat on the bed, eyes fixed on her reflection in the vanity mirror.

He's different. Quieter. Colder.

But he still comes home. That's what matters... right?

She opened her planner. Wrote: "Final meeting with wedding stylist: Friday."

Underneath it, she added: "Talk to Drew about honeymoon."

But deep down, she was already preparing herself not to be heard.

POV: Drew

It was getting harder to keep the stories straight.

"I had to meet an investor."

"There was traffic."

"Guys dragged me to another round."

"Babe, I'm just tired."

The lies came too easily. And oddly... they worked.

Because Liza? She still looked at him like he was everything.

Why does that make me feel worse?

Or does it?

And Brie... Brie was thrilling. Loud. Raw. She asked for nothing but his presence and gave everything without strings. She made him feel dangerous again. Wanted.

He started craving the rush. The secrecy.

He started seeing Liza less... and making excuses more.

POV: Brie

"Let me guess," Brie drawled, leaning against her kitchen counter in nothing but his shirt. "You're heading back to her?"

Drew zipped up his jeans, awkward. "Yeah. I can't stay over. She'll notice."

"She probably already does," Brie said with a smirk. "She's just too polite to say."

He looked up sharply.

Brie shrugged. "That's the thing about women like her. They'll give you a hundred chances before they finally walk away. And when they do?"

She stepped closer.

"You'll realize you lost something real... for something fun."

Drew swallowed hard. But he left anyway.

And Brie smiled to herself.

POV: Liza

That night, Liza found Drew's shirt on the floor.

Lipstick.

Not hers.

She stared at the stain, numb. No anger yet. Just disbelief.

She took it, calmly, and dropped it in the hamper.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door.

He wasn't home.

She whispered aloud-soft, tired:

"Don't break my heart, Drew. Please."

But hearts don't break all at once.

They splinter, quietly... over time.