Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind—the night I brought Mark home to meet my parents. I vividly remembered my father sitting at his desk, asking me, “June, do you really know Mark?”

It turned out I didn’t know him at all.

Mark took a deep breath and sneered at me. “You’ve really been playing the long game, haven’t you, June? I didn’t give you enough credit. You’ve kept it together all this time—what are you planning now? Hmm?”

‘Playing the long game? Is he serious?’

Tears began to stream down my face.

I hated myself at that moment. ‘Is crying all I have left? Is this all I’m capable of—being weak?’

Mark scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. “You’re not as innocent and harmless as you pretend to be, are you?”

That’s when Faye lunged at me, grabbing my hair, slapping and kicking me. She slapped me repeatedly, calling me worthless and other names.

I couldn’t take it anymore and fought back, but she was bigger, stronger, and meaner. Before long, I was on the losing end, left with a swollen face and clumps of my hair torn out.

And Mark? He just sat there and watched, cold and detached, as Faye kicked me out of the apartment, telling me to get lost and that she wished I’d die out there.

The last thing I saw before the door slammed shut was Mark’s cold, dead eyes.

The loud crash of the door echoed down the hallway, setting off the motion-activated lights. The harsh, cold light cast eerie shadows around me.

I sat there, crouched on the ground, motionless. Everything felt like a nightmare—a surreal, disorienting bad dream.

Whenever we’d fought in the past, Mark would always come after me, apologizing, begging for forgiveness. He’d say, “If I make you mad again, I’ll be a total loser.”

I’d admit, for one fleeting moment, a ridiculous thought crossed my mind. ‘Maybe Mark will come out here, apologize, and tell me he’s sorry and that losing the baby is tearing him up inside too. Maybe he’ll hold me and take me back inside.’

But as soon as I realized I was still hoping for that, I slapped myself hard across the face. ‘June Rand, how could you still have any hope for this lying, heartless man? Are you that pathetic?’

Before I could process my thoughts, the door swung open again, and Faye dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

I sat there for what felt like hours, water dripping down my face and soaking into my clothes.

The water was cold. The concrete beneath me was cold. But nothing could compare to how cold my heart had become.

I kicked off my last remaining shoe, wiped away my tears, pulled myself up from the ground, and walked out of the complex barefoot and shivering.

I thought about finding a hotel for the night, but it was late, and I had no phone, no money—nothing.

In a surprising turn of events, I realized that in the city I considered home for years, I had nowhere to go.

My parents’ relatives had never been close, and since my father and mother passed away, we’d barely kept in touch. The only family member I felt close to—my aunt—was in Canada. She couldn’t help me here, and I didn’t want to worry her.

My only friend in Riverside, Vivien Hoton, was on a business trip, halfway across the country, with no return date in sight.

In this vast city, I had nowhere to turn.

The marriage I had once been so proud of—the love I had once cherished—was gone, evaporated in a single night.

I wandered through the city streets, the cold night air biting at my skin, the traffic speeding by as if I didn’t even exist. My heart was as lifeless as the surrounding night.

My parents’ words, their warnings, echoed through my mind repeatedly. I felt so foolish. So blind.

‘They must be so heartbroken, watching me from wherever they were. How could I have been so stupid?’

My mind was numb, my heart shattered. I walked like a zombie, my legs moving without conscious thought, my body on autopilot.

Suddenly, a deafening car horn jolted me back to reality.

I looked up and realized I was standing in the middle of the street. Blinding headlights came rushing toward me at full speed.

I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, my body paralyzed with shock.

Right when I expected the car to hit me, a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. The car sped by, just inches from where I had been standing, and I was pulled into someone’s arms as we both fell to the ground.

The screech of tires echoed through the night as the car’s driver slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing us.

I sat there, stunned, as I looked up at the man who had saved me. His face, striking and handsome, was etched with anger. His chiseled features looked like they had been carved by an artist, too perfect for this world, yet somehow familiar.

I blinked, confused, and instinctively pushed him away.

But before I could distance myself, he pulled me back, his eyes narrowing as he let out a cold, mocking laugh. “June Rand?”