[ESTELLE]
I didn’t know where I stood anymore. Were we still dating? Was I technically single? Was I emotionally attached to a man who might now consider a distant stranger?
Was I back to square one?
Back to stalking him again?
Damn it.
So, I did what any reasonable woman would do in my situation.
I dressed up.
I put on my best dress—short, sparkly, tight in the right places, and 10% morally questionable. Paired it with heels that defied gravity and dignity. Threw on enough perfu to seduce an entire departnt store and set off to a charity gala I knew Damien would attend.
If I couldn’t reach him at ho, I’d ambush him in public.
Classic move.
The venue was glitzy, all glass chandeliers and overpriced hors d’oeuvres I couldn’t pronounce. But I wasn’t here for the ambiance.
I scanned the room.
And then—I saw him.
Damien Cole Frizkiel.
There he was, standing like a Greek god under the light, tall, aloof, so painfully beautiful I almost forgot he ghosted for a month. Almost. But there was one slight problem.
He wasn’t alone.
Next to him was soone I did not expect.
Kelsey.
What the ever-loving hell was she doing here?!
I froze mid-step. I wasn’t ready for a two-player boss fight. I needed ti to regroup, adjust eyeliner, plan my approach—but then she did the unthinkable.
She grabbed his hand.
Intertwined it like it was hers. Like she had the right. And then—smiled. Smiled at the room, at the guests, at . Oh, she saw . That smile was aid with sniper-like precision.
"Yes," she said loudly, clearly wanting every single person to hear, "I’ve accepted Damien’s proposal! Do expect so wedding invitations soon."
She laughed.
People cheered.
And I—well, I was rooted to the spot like soone had turned into a decorative tree. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t understand.
Proposal? Wedding?
WEDDING?!
Was I dead? Had I been in a coma? Did I miss an entire romantic arc between them? The last I heard, Kelsey was still crying over her split ends and begging for Instagram brand deals. Now she’s engaged to my man?!
I blinked. Once. Twice. Nope, still there.
Damien didn’t say a word. He didn’t correct her. He just stood there—stoic, blank-faced, like soone had stuffed his emotions into a drawer.
I laughed nervously, hoping this was all a joke. A prank. Maybe a publicity stunt? Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe they were faking it. Maybe he was secretly plotting a surprise proposal for later. Right?
But deep down, I knew the truth.
I had been replaced.
Thrown aside like last season’s fashion trend. And the worst part?
I didn’t even get a mo.
I stood there, surrounded by glittering gowns and champagne glasses, trying not to cry in my lashes. My hands clenched at my sides as Kelsey blew a kiss at like so Disney villain in heels.
Oh no. Oh hell no.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Because if Damien Fay thought he could ghost , let his long-lost sister block , and then let Kelsey-with-the-boring-hair take my place?
Then he had no idea what kind of ex-girlfriend-still-maybe-girlfriend woman he was dealing with.
Then Kelsey stood on her toes and kissed Damien on the lips.
It was so soft, so natural, I almost believed it was rehearsed. Like so tragic scene lifted out of a film where the girl wins, and the other girl——stands off-screen with a plastic smile and a glass of sothing cold that suddenly tastes like ash.
I couldn’t move. My feet felt like they were bolted to the marble floor, my limbs refusing to cooperate, as if even my own body was embarrassed for .
And then—then he smiled at her. That smile. The one I thought was mine. The one I used to see in the mornings when he’d lazily pull into his arms, whispering nonsense about dreams and breakfast. The one that made believe—just for a while—that maybe I was the one.
But in that mont, watching them, I realized sothing I should’ve known long ago.
Damien had never truly chosen .
He had lingered with . Smiled. Touched. Whispered promises too fragile to last. But love? That wasn’t what it was. I was the interlude. The in-between. A beautiful distraction while he waited for the one his heart had already claid a thousand tis over.
Kelsey.
It was always her.
Suddenly, the sound around faded—the murmurs of nearby conversations, the clink of glasses, the distant, upbeat music ant to make this mont feel less tragic. All of it drowned beneath the roar of my own thoughts spiraling into sothing dark and suffocating.
I couldn’t breathe. My tears spilling over. Not here. Not now.
I turned on my heel before they could see my face—before Damien could notice the devastation he had just etched into my features. If he had looked at then, really looked, he might’ve seen it—the way my heart shattered behind my eyes, the way everything I’d built in my head ca crashing down with a single kiss and a smile that wasn’t mine.
But he didn’t look.
He didn’t call after .
He was too busy looking at her.
I stord out of the venue and caught the first car back to the apartnt. No dramatic exit. No tears. Not yet. I stared out the window in silence, my hands trembling slightly in my lap as the city passed by like a blur. I didn’t even take off my heels when I stumbled into the penthouse—we used to call it "ours," but tonight it felt like a stranger’s ho.
The door closed behind with a soft click, and just like that, the dam broke.
I leaned back against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold tiles of the foyer floor, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers. My chest hurt. Like sothing sharp was lodged inside, twisting every ti I tried to inhale.
I had always known, hadn’t I?
But I was just an idiot and stubborn not to back down knowing still that there was no chance.
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