Arem Zyke — POV
The room is dark, heavy—drowned in cigar smoke and the sharp sting of alcohol that clings to the air like a second skin. I sink into the couch, head tipped back, eyes burning red, vision swimming from drink after drink. The table in front of me is a mess—empty glasses, spilled liquor, and right at the center of it all…
The USB.
Small. Silent.
It sits there like a slap across my face.
I stare at it, jaw tight, chest hollowing out with every breath.
An evidence.
Proof that Evan Lee is sleeping with someone else.
My throat tightens.
My voice trembles as I whisper to the empty room,
"An evidence… that he loves someone else."
Three years.
I wasted three years chasing him—guarding him, waiting, believing.
And this is what he gives me in return.
Humiliation.
Betrayal.
