Chapter 5

"Mr. Reynolds, aren't you getting married soon? How do you still have time to sneak off with me?"

Through the paper-thin wall, a woman's coquettish giggle came through loud and clear.

Then, a voice so agonizingly familiar that I could no longer lie to myself responded.

"This is the last time."

Evidently displeased with that answer, the woman whined playfully:

"You say that every single time. Could your precious little bride ever satisfy you the way I do?"

Tyler didn't reply with words. Through the wall came the violent creak of bed springs and the woman's breathless, moaning cries.

After what felt like an eternity, Tyler's voice drifted over, cool and distant:

"You're a smart girl."

"The money will be wired to your account. After today, we never see each other again."

My stomach heaved violently. I clapped a hand over my mouth, stumbled into Julian's bathroom, and threw up until my ribs ached.

I hadn't eaten all day, so I brought up nothing but acid.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, washing over my shattered, humiliated face.

*Ding—ding—ding—*

My phone buzzed repeatedly with notifications. I didn't care to check.

Suddenly, a loud ringtone cut through the quiet studio.

It was our song. Mine and Tyler's favorite track.

The sweet, romantic lyrics echoed off the bathroom tiles like a cruel slap in the face.

Julian walked over and picked up my phone from the counter.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

I froze before the sink, paralyzed by grief, fury, and sheer helplessness. My brain had short-circuited.

The ringing went on for a minute. The commotion on our side must have alerted the people next door.

Out in the hall, floorboards creaked. Then came a knock on Julian's door.

"Hello? Anyone in there?"

It was Tyler.

I scrambled to mute my phone. Julian took quick strides to the door, peered through the peephole, and looked back at me, silently asking how I wanted to play this.

The knocking grew more persistent. With trembling fingers, I opened Tyler's chat.

He had just messaged me:

[Just landed, babe! Still taxiing on the runway.]

Attached was a photo.

Inside a plane cabin, his rolled-up sleeve rested casually on his knee, his wedding band gleaming on his ring finger.

I stared at the cuff of his shirt. It was completely different from the color in the photo he'd sent earlier today.

A deafening buzz roared in my ears.

His lies weren't even sophisticated. I had simply trusted him so blindly that I had never bothered to look at the details.

The knocking outside grew harder, his tone turning impatient:

"Is someone home?"