My hands shake. One wrong move, and I’ll crush him.
“See, from where I’m standing,” I grit out, “it looks like you’re cheating on me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Chloe clutches the sheet, her eyes flicking back and forth, panicked. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” she whispers.
I blink. “Oh? How were you hoping I’d find out? A fucking group text?”
“I—we?—”
“We?” I hiss.
Jackson leans back, totally unfazed. “No hard feelings, man. Chloe and I are in love. Right, babe?”
She gives him a weak smile. The stone in my stomach flips.
I zero in on her. “Is that true?”
A pause. “Yes. Nolan—I’m sorry?—”
I shake my head. No way this is fucking happening. “In love?”
She nods. And that’s it. Everything snaps.
I lunge. Chloe screams.
But I stop myself with my arm cocked back, fist shaking with rage that could break orbital bones. Jackson’s right below me. I’m one second from gifting him a face only a surgical team could salvage.
My jaw locks. Breath rips its way out of my lungs. And then I look at her—the woman who was supposed to be mine.
And everything in me fractures.
“I thought you loved me.”
Chloe opens her mouth, but before she can answer, her phone buzzes, the sound cutting through the air like a gunshot.
She snatches it from the nightstand, her face twisting when she swipes at the screen.
The music starts.
Welcome Home.
My Key Moment.
Fuck.
The slideshow. The grand gesture. Our story.
Eyes wide, mouth slack, she watches in silence.
Jackson glances at the screen and covers a chuckle with his fist. “Oh shit, man.”
The air goes thick, and suffocating. My throat constricts. I want to grab the phone. Smash it. Make it disappear.
But I don’t.
Rooted to the ground, I stand there watching Chloe, feeling every stab of pain her knife is giving me.
When it ends, she whispers, “Wow. That was…beautiful.”
