Grief,that's what I'm feeling right now.
Pure grief—brutal, aching, and so goddamn consuming it feels like I'm having a heart attack.
Her name breaks from my mouth like a prayer, "Sophie..."
I scroll back to the top and read the article over and over again. Every line feels like a knife to my gut, ripping me open, and I keep reading because I deserve this hurt. I caused this wreckage. I deserve to feel every single ounce of this pain, to sit in it and choke on it, to let it tear through me the way I tore through her.
I close my eyes and try—just for a second—to flip it. To feel it too. I imagine that it was Sophie who had cheated on me, and I picture her voice breaking as she tells me she'd slept withsomeone else. I picture that moment of betrayal, the disbelief, the humiliation. And then I realize that it doesn't work.
Sophie wouldn't do that. She would never, and that's what makes it unbearable—how easy it was. How simple it was to destroy the person who would've done anything for me. I can see Elise smiling at me, saying the right things, making me feel seen, desired, validated—feeding the worst parts of me.
And I let it happen, because I liked it. It was easier than the fear.
You disgusting, pathetic asshole!
You weak, spineless piece of shit!
You had Sophie. This remarkable woman who loved you, took care of you, treated you like a King, and what did you do? Threw it all away because of cancer. Because you were too much of a coward to stand beside her when she needed you most.
Now, she's still here, still fighting and still smiling. She's practically fucking thriving without you. You're the one left behind. What does that say about you as a fiancé? What does that say about the kind of man you are? What did you do for her that made you have the absolute balls to cheat on her?
Nothing, you are nothing.
And now she's found someone—Callum Rhodes.
He's the one taking care of her now.
The images taunt me—him holding her close and smelling that marshmallow scent of hers, kissing her perfect lips, making love to her like I once had the privilege to do. I can picture her tucked beneath his chin, smiling that sleepy smile she used to give me, her hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Callum being there for her during her appointments, her surgery, and her recovery.
Callum and Sophie.
They spin through my head, relentlessly torturing me—what I lost. My greatest loss. Sophie.
And you know what really fucking sucks?
I know Callum's the type of guy who actually deserves someone like Sophie. At least, the Callum I had known as a kid and teen was. I imagine the adult version is much the same.
Callum was always just...good. Kind. Genuine. It was so easy to trick him back then because he just trusted people and didn't think they would lie to him. He was kind and listened to me during those walks home from school. Even when other kids made fun of him, he'd just let it roll off him and move on.
And maybe I wasjealousof that. That I cared so much, and Callum didn't seem to care what people thought of him. Yeah, he was bullied by other kids for being quiet or chunky, but he never lashed out at them. Never made fun of them back. Never turned cruel.
He just kept moving forward.
There's a brief flash of embarrassment at not onlyStarling Coveknowing about my betrayal, but now whoever reads this will read about her ex-fiancé cheating and will call me every name in the book. But you know what? Ideserveit. Every cruel word, every bit of disgust—they're earned.
I betrayed her, that's my burden to bear.
And I will not tell her the way she should heal. This is ultimately her story, her journey, her battle, and I forgot that from the beginning. I made it about my fear, my weakness, my need for control.
Humility is a heavy thing to bear, but you must bear it all the same.
I'll bear it, and I'll be better.
When I scroll back down to the bottom of the article, my eyes catch on to the section listing cancer charities and support groups—names, links, donation portals.
The idea strikes me then, and I pull up another browser. I log into my bank account and pull up my savings—the money I hademptied from mine and Sophie's joint account.
