The car sped through the drizzle, taking me to a place that should have remained a sweet memory. Bougenville. Just its name was enough to make my chest tighten. That villa was where we—Nicholas and I—had rented for a full week during summer vacation, promising under the stars that one day we would have a place like this.

Now, I stood before it again, but this time not for nostalgia.

The front door was slightly ajar, a small, dark gap inviting disaster. My heart pounded, and the fear of the truth made me freeze for a moment before I finally took another step. I pushed the door open slowly, entering a quiet room that felt heavy with sin.

The first thing I saw were shoes. Nicholas's brown leather loafers—the ones I chose for his birthday—lay haphazardly. Next to them, a pair of bright red high heels were thrown carelessly on the cold marble, as if depicting uncontrollable urgency.

Each step felt heavier. A trail of scattered clothes formed a clear path: Nicholas's shirt, his belt, and a sensual black dress. All leading to the master bedroom door, the room that was once ours.

And then, I heard it all.

The sounds of moans. Ragged, panting breaths that were all too familiar.

"Darling..." That was Nicholas's voice, heavy with lust, the same voice that always whispered "I love you" in my ear.

"Harder, Nick..." replied a woman's moaning voice, and that voice... that voice was too familiar to my ears.

With a pounding heart, I approached the bedroom door. The sounds inside grew clearer.

"We have to be careful, darling," the woman's voice said. "I... I'm pregnant."

My world crumbled. That voice... that voice was the voice of...

"Don't worry, darling," Nicholas replied softly. "We'll continue like this. Judith mustn't know. She's too good to learn this truth."

Hearing my name uttered like that, an unbearable pain pierced my chest. Slowly, very slowly, I pushed the door open.

The scene before me made me freeze. On the large bed I once shared with Nicholas, two naked bodies were now locked in an intimate embrace. Nicholas... and Gabriella. My childhood best friend. The woman I thought was my own sister.

They were so absorbed in their own world that they didn't notice my presence. Gabriella held Nicholas tightly, her head resting on the chest of the man who was supposed to be my fiancé.

"I'm scared, Nick," Gabriella whispered. "What if Judith--"

Suddenly, her eyes darted towards the door. Her face instantly turned pale.

"Judith!" she screamed.

Nicholas turned quickly, his face turning ashen. "Judith?!"

I could only stand there, wide-eyed, unable to believe the betrayal unfolding right before my eyes.

"Bastard! You whore!" I screamed, my voice hoarse with long-suppressed anger. My hand grabbed an expensive crystal vase from the table and smashed it onto the marble floor. Shards of glass scattered like tears I never got to shed.

"What do you take me for?!" I shouted again, now pushing over a display shelf filled with their art collection. Statues and photo frames fell, shattering into pieces across the floor. "A stupid doll you can play with as you please?"

"Judith, stop it! You're insane!" Nicholas stepped forward, trying to restrain me, his face red with a mix of shame and anger.

"INSANE?!" I kicked a small chair towards him. "You made me insane! Because of traitors like you two!" My breath came in ragged gasps, my chest heaving uncontrollably. "All this time... all your promises... all your embraces... lies!"

"Listen, Judith, you don't understand—" Nicholas tried to defend himself.

"Exactly! I don't understand how a childhood best friend and a fiancé I considered my future husband—" my voice broke, "—could do something so vile in a place where we built our memories! And... and she's even... pregnant!" The last word came out like a spray of poison.

"You slept with her until that whore got pregnant!"

SLAP!

The hard slap came suddenly. So forceful that my head snapped back, my body falling amidst the shards of glass that pierced my skin. My cheek burned, but the pain in my heart was far more torturous.

Nicholas stood frozen, staring at his own hand in disbelief. "Judith... I... I didn't mean to..."

With great effort, I stood up, ignoring the blood flowing from the cuts on my hand. "Listen carefully, Nicholas," I whispered bitterly. "You two deserve to be in hell."

I stared deep into his eyes, making sure every word sank into his soul. "And I swear I will make sure you get there."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and ran. Through the wrecked room, down the hallway, out into the still-pouring rain. Running with all my strength, leaving all the lies and betrayal behind.

The front door creaked open. I entered in a pitiful state: body drenched, hair a messy wreck, eyes swollen and red, bloodstains on my arms, and the clear mark of a slap on my cheek.

Kenny was still there. He stood in the middle of the living room, as if he had been waiting all this time. The lights were on, illuminating every detail of my absolute defeat.

He wasn't in a rush to ask anything. His blue eyes calmly scanned my face.

The bruising slap mark on my cheek. The small cuts on my hands and arms from the glass shards. The wet, crumpled dress. Eyes that were no longer tearful because the tears had run dry.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke in a low, firm voice:

"I suspected it would be like this," he said, his gaze not leaving the wounds on my face. "Now you finally know who he really is."

He took a step closer, but not too close. Giving me space yet providing a strong presence.

"And now," he added, his voice softer, "you also know who has always told you the truth."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself amidst the ruins of my heart. "Why did you tell me all this? What is your real goal, Kenny?"

Kenny smiled. A smile rarely seen on his usually ice-cold face. Then he stood from his chair, walking towards me with steps as calm as a snake about to strike its prey. I reflexively stepped back, my back already against the wall.

"My goal is simple," he uttered, his voice low yet clear in the quiet room. "I want to be your husband."

My breath caught again. Even though this wasn't the first time he had said those words, each time he uttered them, the impact was the same: leaving me both mesmerized and terrified.

"Listen," I said, trying to sound firm even though my voice still trembled, "we are not close. You're not someone close to me, you're just an acquaintance. What you're saying makes no sense!"

He didn't answer. Instead, his warm hand rose, and before I could avoid it, it was cupping my cheek. His thumb gently wiped away the traces of tears still wet there. His palm felt large against my face, his touch so intimate yet making me shiver.

"Look at these tears," he whispered, his blue eyes staring at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "You're crying for a man who isn't worthy. But I am here, standing before you, willing to give you the best."

He brought his face closer, so close I could see every one of his long eyelashes. "Tell me, Judith, who is the real stranger here? The one who lied to you, or the one who has always been honest about his feelings?"

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