Chapter 3

That evening, sleep eluded me as I restlessly shifted in bed. Unexpectedly, my phone illuminated with a message—Anne had shared a new post on her social media account.

[Survived a scratch from a feisty feline, but fortunately had someone to tend to my wound.]

The post contained a hazy image of a man's outline, but that recognizable shape—who else could it be except William?

The comments were brimming with well-wishes like [May your love last forever!] The sight left me feeling nauseous.

I couldn't endure it anymore. Looking at the calendar, I noticed it was merely the seventh day of January. Without hesitation, I reserved a flight to the capital—the city where William and I had purchased a home together.

I had to collect my belongings and terminate this relationship definitively.

When he returned to find me gone, he began calling incessantly. "Claire, where have you gone? The engagement ceremony is in ten days!"

His voice now only evoked resentment and fury within me. I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the situation.

"William, you've disappointed me beyond my imagination."

I inhaled deeply, striving to maintain composure. "Do you recall what I once said? If you ever cheated on me, you'd never see or hear from me again. Not in this life."

With that, I ended the call abruptly.

I then collected all our photographs, once treasured memories. Now, each image felt like a sharp pain in my chest.

I found the romantic letters he had written, filled with sweet vows. I also retrieved the meticulously crafted scrapbook, a chronicle of our relationship that captured every shared moment.

These mementos, once symbols of affection, now served only as painful reminders of the betrayal that had destroyed everything.

I carried them outside and watched as the fire slowly consumed them. The flames danced and crackled, mirroring the tumultuous emotions within me—rage, heartache, and a grim sense of finality.

Next, I gathered every item he had ever gifted me and discarded them without a second glance.

I couldn't help but reminisce about the early stages of our relationship, when he was earnestly pursuing me. Each day, he would send a love note through my roommate, and soon my desk drawer was overflowing with them.

Eventually, I gathered them into a box, handling each one delicately, as if they were invaluable. To me, they represented our love—a testament to a connection I believed would endure forever.

Now, as I gazed at them, they weren't tokens of love at all. They were just reminders of my own gullibility.

As I continued sorting through our belongings, I stumbled upon something unexpected in his bedside table—a bag.

Apprehension and intrigue swirled within me as I opened it. Inside, I discovered a collection of train and plane tickets. I examined them one by one, noticing that most were for journeys to Chafbury.

My heart sank further as I reached the bottom of the bag. There, I uncovered photographs—pictures of him and Anne together. Some were typical couple shots, but others were intimate, inappropriate, and revolting.

The dates on the photos corresponded with the travel dates on the tickets.

Chafbury—the city where Anne was employed.

All those supposed "business trips" he'd mentioned? They were merely pretexts to rendezvous with Anne and continue their illicit affair.

My hands quivered as I held the incriminating evidence. The betrayal I had desperately tried to deny was now staring me in the face, undeniable and merciless.