The sun hung low on the horizon, casting an orange glow across Vivian's apartment. The sky outside was a blur of fading light, but inside, the room felt darker than ever. A heavy silence enveloped the space, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner. Vivian stood in front of the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Her mind replayed the events of the last few days over and over like a loop that refused to stop.
She hadn't expected this. No, she hadn't expected the rawness of the betrayal, the coldness with which it had been delivered. The confrontation with Aurora had shredded whatever remnants of trust she'd left in the world. The things Aurora had said, the way she'd justified every action, every secret—Vivian had felt herself crumble under the weight of it. But what hurt the most was how Aurora had made it all seem so effortless. So simple. Like she was the one who had been wronged.
And Julian—God, Julian. He had been the one she trusted the most. The one she had given her heart to without hesitation. Now, looking back, she realized that her trust had been a currency she'd spent recklessly. She couldn't ignore it anymore. The lies. The secrets. The moments she'd brushed aside because she wanted to believe in the fantasy he had sold her.
She couldn't remember when things had started to unravel, but one thing was clear now: She had been a fool. A willing participant in a game she hadn't even known she was playing.
Vivian's fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms as the anger surged through her. But it wasn't just anger anymore. It was a cold, seething fury that made her heart pound in her chest. She wasn't just hurt; she was pissed. Pissed at Aurora for her arrogance. Pissed at Julian for playing both sides. Pissed at herself for not seeing it sooner.
The phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. She glanced at it but didn't move. Julian's name flashed across the screen, a reminder of the man who had turned her world upside down. Another apology. Another plea for a chance to explain.
Her breath hitched in her chest, but she didn't pick it up. She couldn't. Not yet. Not when the words still stung too much.
Vivian stood there, feeling as if the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her chest. Her mind was a storm of emotions, swirling between anger, betrayal, and disbelief. Her phone buzzed again. Another message. Another attempt to break through her resolve.
She let out a shaky breath and sank into the couch, her legs too weak to support her any longer. Her eyes scanned the room, landing on the empty space where Julian's things still sat—his jacket, his shoes, the remnants of the life they had shared. The life that had been built on lies.
And then there was Aurora. Vivian clenched her jaw as her thoughts shifted to her. The woman who had become an unwelcome intruder in her life. The woman who had stolen what was hers—no, what she thought was hers. The woman who had twisted the knife even further when she spoke about the Paris trip.
"I'm not sorry, Viv. I never meant for this to happen, but I can't pretend anymore."
Vivian's hands trembled as she recalled the words, the coldness in Aurora's voice. The way she had justified everything, as if the affair had been some sort of inevitability. As if Vivian had never stood a chance.
But what had hurt the most, what had struck her with a force she hadn't been prepared for, were the details. The things Aurora had said without thinking. The things that cut deeper than any insult.
"You were too trusting, too loving, too damn gullible to see it, Viv. You never even questioned why Julian was always 'working late' or 'in meetings.' You never saw the pictures he sent me from his 'business trips,' did you?"
Aurora's words echoed in Vivian's mind. The bitter realization that while she had been loving, nurturing, and loyal, Julian had been betraying her in ways she hadn't even known about. The images—those intimate, secret pictures that Julian had sent to Aurora during their supposed "business trips"—flashed through her mind like a cruel slideshow. The thought of him smiling into a camera while with Aurora, while telling Vivian he had "important work" to do, made her stomach churn.
And the Paris trip. That was the breaking point. Vivian had been so blinded by trust that she had thought the art gallery trip was just an innocent getaway for Aurora to explore her passion. But no. It had been a carefully constructed façade. A cover for a weekend Julian and Aurora had spent together. Alone. That detail—she had been lied to on a grand scale, and now it seemed so obvious.
Vivian's hands balled into fists again, but this time, she didn't hold back. She slammed her fist into the couch, the pain grounding her as the anger began to boil over.
"He's been messing with you for so much longer than you know, Viv," Aurora had said. "You think you're better than me, don't you? Better in bed, better at everything. But he always wanted me. And you were too caught up in your perfect little world to see the cracks forming."
The insult hit hard. Better in bed. Better at everything. Was that how she was seen? As just another woman, another conquest? She had loved Julian with everything she had, and yet, it was never enough. That cruel taunt from Aurora—that Julian preferred her, that he'd always wanted her—echoed in her mind like a wound that would never heal.
Vivian gripped the edge of the coffee table, her knuckles turning white as she tried to calm herself. She had to keep it together. For herself. She couldn't let this destroy her. She couldn't let Julian or Aurora—or anyone—define her.
But the hurt was too much. The betrayal, the lies, the humiliation—it was overwhelming. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the couch, trying to steady her breathing. But it wasn't enough.
The silence in the room was deafening. The weight of it was suffocating. She wanted to scream, to let it all out, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the fear that if she did, she'd lose control. Maybe it was the knowledge that nothing could change the truth now.
Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. This time, she hesitated. She stared at the screen for a long moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Julian had sent her another message.
"Vivian, please. I know I've made mistakes, but I need to explain. Please just listen to me."
Vivian's throat tightened. She didn't know what to do with this anymore. Was he sincere? Or was this just another round of manipulation? She'd given him everything, and it still hadn't been enough. He had hurt her. He had betrayed her. She could feel the anger building again, pushing her to act, to do something.
"I'm not the one who needs to explain," she whispered to herself, her voice barely a sound in the quiet room. "You are."
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Vivian froze. Her heart skipped a beat. Who was it now? Julian? Aurora? She wasn't ready for either of them. But as the knock came again, more insistent this time, she knew she had to face whatever was on the other side of that door.
She stood up, wiping the tears from her eyes as she walked slowly to the door. With one last deep breath, she opened it.
Standing in front of her was a man she hadn't expected. A man who had been part of her life before, but who she hadn't seen in years.
Damien.
Damien was someone from her past—an old friend, someone who had been there during the quieter, simpler times of her life. His deep blue eyes held a look of concern, and his face softened when he saw her. His presence immediately felt like a calm after the storm.
"Vivian," he said quietly. "I saw the news. I heard what happened... Can we talk?"
Vivian hesitated, feeling a rush of emotions flood her system. This wasn't what she had expected. But Damien—he was a reminder of who she was before the chaos. He was a part of her past that hadn't been tainted by lies.
"Come in," she said, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered, she closed the door behind them and let out a breath, unsure of what to do next.
As Damien took a seat, Vivian stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what words to say. She didn't know how to begin.
But then, Damien spoke. "I know this is hard, Viv. But I want you to remember that you're stronger than you think. You've always been. And you'll get through this."
For the first time in days, Vivian felt a spark of something—hope, maybe. Something to hold onto.
She wasn't alone.
But everything was about to change.