Chapter 1

On New Year's Eve, I introduced my boyfriend to my family, only to make a heartbreaking discovery about his involvement with my closest friend.

Though deeply hurt, I chose not to cause a scene during such a significant celebration. I planned to address the issue privately after the holiday. However, their behavior became increasingly brazen. Beneath the poker table, they continued their clandestine activities without shame.

"William, aren't you worried Claire might catch on? It could get complicated."

"Darling, that's what makes our connection special. She's so boring compared to you. You're far more thrilling."

Their conversation shattered my heart. Years of devotion and faith seemed meaningless to him. Crushed, I retreated and made a daring decision.

I sent a message: [Ryan, do you still care for me?]

[I do.]

[Then let's become engaged.]

[Hold on—I'm coming back right now.]

Ryan returned, and we soon announced our engagement. At our celebration party, he became completely unhinged.

Upon returning from a festive market, I entered an eerie silence. The atmosphere was thick and oppressive. What I witnessed next was beyond my worst nightmares—William Guy and Anne Crane, entangled in my bedroom, their treachery fully exposed.

The scene was like a knife to my soul. Anne had been my dearest friend since our teenage years, a relationship built on mutual trust and understanding. She was an orphan whom I had taken in out of compassion and loyalty, inviting her to join our family's New Year's Eve celebration to prevent her from feeling isolated. I never suspected I was inviting betrayal into my home.

The image of their infidelity burned into my memory, destroying every bit of trust I had left.

Concerned they might be hungry, I had hurried back from the market to prepare a meal, never imagining I'd encounter such a revolting scenario.

Earlier that day, my mother suggested a game of poker, so the three of us joined her. At one point, he excused himself to use the restroom. His phone kept vibrating incessantly. Curious, I checked it and was shocked by the incoming WeTalk messages.

[William, imagine if Claire found out? Wouldn't that be exhilarating?]

[Sweetheart, women without college degrees are just superior—much more entertaining than her.]

I reflected on the odd tension I had sensed under the poker table. My heart felt as if it was being torn apart.

Seeking some stability, I messaged Ryan: [Ryan, do you still have feelings for me?]

[I do.]

[Then let's get engaged.]

[Hold on—I'm coming back home immediately.]

That evening, William returned to the room acting as if nothing had transpired. But Anne's distinctive perfume lingered on him, making me feel sick.

As he moved to embrace me, my suppressed anger and revulsion erupted.

"Don't come near me!" I exclaimed.

"What's the matter now, Claire?" His voice feigned innocence, as if the day's events had never occurred.

Striving to maintain composure, I said, "Stay away from Anne from now on. People might start talking." I struggled to keep my tone level, holding back my fury.

"Claire, we've been together since university and we're about to get engaged. Why are you suddenly distrusting me?" His expression was one of feigned hurt, deserving of an acting award.

I had been enduring severe menstrual pain for days and lacked the energy for an argument. Instead, I dismissed him with a simple request: "I'm not feeling well. Please get me some hot water."

Instantly, he reverted to his familiar caring demeanor, reminiscent of the man I once trusted. "Of course, just wait here," he said warmly.

As he left, I remembered leaving my phone outside. I got up to retrieve it but stopped abruptly when I glimpsed a heart-wrenching scene through the slightly open door.

In the kitchen, William held the cup of hot water meant for me while passionately kissing Anne.

I was completely stunned. Five years of love and commitment—discarded as if they were meaningless. And the person who destroyed it all was my longtime best friend.

Moments later, he entered the room, carrying the cup with a facade of concern. "Here you are, Claire. I even added some brown sugar for your menstrual discomfort," he said, pretending to be thoughtful.