I always imagined heartbreak to be a slow, creeping thing—quiet cracks in the chest, small aches, a gradual breaking.
But that night, it shattered all at once.
I should have known the moment I stepped out of the elevator. The penthouse was too quiet. Ethan usually left the lights on, dimmed warm, like he was waiting for me to come home. But that night, everything was dark… except for the faint, rhythmic thumping coming from our bedroom.
At first, I thought it was the wind.
I wish it had been the wind.
My heels clicked on the marble floor, each step echoing louder than my heartbeat. "Ethan?" I called out, gently at first—almost hopeful.
No answer.
The sound sharpened. A muffled moan.
My stomach tightened, twisting painfully. I didn't want to move. Didn't want to know. But my feet carried me anyway—slow, heavy, unwilling.
The door to our bedroom was slightly open.
A sliver.
Just wide enough for the universe to destroy me through it.
I pushed it open.
And there he was.
Ethan Cole. My husband. My contract husband.
His bare back, muscles tense, his hands gripping the sheets, our sheets, as another woman clung to him, gasping his name like it belonged to her.
For three seconds, my world went silent.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
No thought.
Just the image.
Burned into me like fire.
The woman—brunette, flawless—noticed me first. She froze. Ethan turned his head, slowly, his face draining of color when he saw me standing there with my work bag still dangling from my fingers.
"Liana," he breathed, like my name was a curse and a prayer at once. "Wait—this isn't—"
"Don't," I whispered. But my voice cracked. "Don't you dare."
The brunette scrambled, gathering the sheets against her chest. She whispered something, but my ears refused to hear.
Ethan stood, reaching for me. "Please, just let me explain—"
"Explain?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "Were you giving her a tour of our bed? Or is this part of your… stress-relief routine?"
"Li—please. It's not what you think."
I stepped back before he could touch me. If he touched me, I would break in his palms—and he didn't deserve to hold the pieces.
My throat tightened. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—couldn't decide which hurt more: the betrayal, or the fact that somewhere along the way… I had fallen for him.
It was never supposed to happen.
Our marriage was supposed to be simple. Temporary. Professional. A one-year contract to help him secure his company's board approval.
No strings.
No emotions.
No heartbreak.
But I was stupid.
I fell for the man who never promised me love.
My eyes stung. "I should've known. I should've understood this was just… business."
"Liana, no—listen to me—"
"I heard enough."
I walked out before the sob choking me could escape. My hands trembled as I dragged my suitcase out from under the bed—because of course I had packed one months ago, "just in case." Back then, I thought I was being dramatic.
Turns out, I was just being realistic.
"Don't do this," Ethan said behind me, panic growing in his voice. "Please, stop packing for a second and let me talk."
"I listened," I whispered. "Every night. I listened to everything you didn't say. And now I've heard enough of what you did say."
"I made a mistake!"
"You made a choice."
My voice cracked, and I hated that he heard it.
I zipped the suitcase and walked toward the door.
Ethan moved to block me. "Liana. Don't leave like this."
Rain started pounding against the windows, loud and violent, almost matching the storm inside my chest.
"Move," I said.
"No."
"Ethan," my voice trembled, "if you ever cared about me—even a little—move."
For one moment, I thought he wouldn't.
Then his shoulders dropped, and he stepped aside.
I walked out.
He followed.
"Liana, please! Just wait—"
But I was already opening the door, already drowning in the thick scent of rain that rushed in from the hallway.
"Don't follow me."
He didn't listen.
I stepped into the rain the moment the building doors slid open, the coldness slapping my skin, mixing with my tears so I couldn't tell them apart.
"Li! Stop!" Ethan called, running after me. "You can't just walk away!"
"I already did," I whispered, though I doubted he heard it.
My suitcase wheels skidded on the wet pavement as I crossed the road. My vision blurred—tears, rain, heartbreak—it all melted into one unbearable haze.
A loud honk tore through the air.
I turned my head.
Headlights.
Bright.
Blinding.
Rushing straight toward me.
I froze.
And everything went white.