Love Lies

-One-

With this ring, I thee trap.

The thought is a shard of glass lodged in my throat, making every breath a jagged pain.

I twist the diamond between my thumb and forefinger, its sharp edges biting into my skin. This stone, once a symbol of his love and commitment, is now a shackle. A constant weight of his lies and broken promises. A suffocating reality I’d tried to breathe through.

Rough brick scrapes my bare back as I retreat into the shadows. My flimsy dress offers little protection against the night’s chill, but the cold is a needed distraction.

The street throbs. Impatient engines, drunken laughter, honking horns. Each blast jolts my frayed nerves, mirroring the anxiety coiling in my gut.

Car after car releases a parade of sleek dresses and tailored suits. They flow towards Hydra Nightclub, faces flushed, eyes bright with the promise of oblivion. My fingers tighten around the ring until the diamond digs into my flesh.

Should I leave?

Walk away.

Go home.

Pretend I was never here.

But a morbid need to know, to finally stop second-guessing, keeps my feet rooted. I need to face the truth whispering in the back of my mind, threatening to shatter the fragile illusion of my happiness.

My stomach clenches.

He’s late.

Or maybe he’s not coming.

Maybe this was all a mistake.

I push off the wall, ready to turn back. Then—

A flash of burgundy catches my eye.

Oxblood.

His favorite blazer.

He strides down the street, far from the office where he’d claimed he’d be buried in paperwork. Chin high, smug grin, eyes scanning the crowd with a predatory gleam. The entitlement radiating off him makes me sick.

James.

The bouncer greets him with a wide smile, instantly unclipping the rope.

He’s in.

It’s a confirmation and a condemnation.

An icy fist to the gut.

I cross the street, heels clicking sharp against the pavement, each step a hammer blow. The front entrance is out of the question. Too much light. Too much risk.

It has to be the back.

The alley beside the club looms, dark and cavernous. The stench of stale beer and rotting garbage assaults me.

I recoil, smoothing my hands down my dress in a futile attempt to reclaim some composure. My sweet perfume clashes with the rot, a nauseating reminder of where I am.

I press on, my gaze fixed on the single steel door.

This is it.

The point of no return.

My palm is cold and slick against the metal handle. One tug and the door swings inward, assaulting me with harsh fluorescent light. The bass vibrates through the floor and up into my bones, my pulse a frantic counterpoint to the relentless rhythm.

Ahead, a warmer light spills from an open doorway.

The air seizes in my lungs.

I slow my pace, tiptoeing past, when a gruff voice booms behind me. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

Busted.

I force a smile. “Oh, no thanks,” I chirp, an octave too high. “Just looking for the washroom.”

Before he can respond, I push through the double doors, plunging into the crush of bodies.

The music engulfs me. A sea of sweaty limbs and flashing lights presses in. I stumble toward the restrooms and duck into the nearest stall. The lock clicks, promising temporary sanctuary. Leaning against the cool metal door, I close my eyes.

Get a grip, Amy.

I blow out a long, shaky breath.

You can do this.

I fumble with the clasp of my handbag and pull out the wig.

Spicing things up for your fiancé? The saleswoman’s cheerful voice echoes in my mind, a mockery. He’s one lucky man! I remember her winking, oblivious to the dread hollowing me out.

Taking a deep breath, I gather my blonde hair into a tight bun and position the wig. Synthetic fibers feel alien against my fingertips. I smooth the dark curls around my face and step out of the stall.

The woman in the grimy mirror is a stranger. Dark curls obscure my features. My light blue eyes look dull, lost in the shadow of the wig.

Where is she now?

That happy, love-struck Amy?

Gone.

Replaced by this imposter.

This spy.

James’s proposal, once a cherished dream, has become a twisted nightmare. But tonight, the nightmare ends. Tonight, I take back my life. The curly-haired woman in the mirror has the courage to face the ugly truth.

I clench my fist, nails digging into my palm. The slight pain anchors me to the present.

It’s time.

The air vibrates. Blue and white beams of light slash across the writhing mass on the dance floor. I push toward the bar, searching. My gaze snags on two servers balancing trays of sparkler-topped bottles. They weave toward a secluded enclave of plush leather couches. A group erupts in cheers. And there, in the center of it all… him.

My James.

A redhead clings to him like a second skin, her dress barely holding together.

Air leaves my lungs.

I stumble backward, hitting the stool hard. The world tilts.

“Whiskey neat.” My voice breaks.

The bartender slides a coaster over, eyes registering my distress. I don’t care. I can’t look away. James buries his face in the redhead’s hair. Whispers something. She giggles.

A sick lurch twists my gut. It’s not just the infidelity; it’s the intimacy. The tenderness is the betrayal.

He never touches me like that anymore.

The whiskey arrives. I swallow it in one gulp. The fiery burn is nothing against the hollow ache in my chest.

“Another,” I say, pushing the glass forward.

The bartender raises an eyebrow but complies.

I slide a twenty across the bar and pull out my phone. Fingers fumbling, I switch to video mode and prop the phone against my fresh drink.

He takes her hand and pulls her away.

No.

I drain the second whiskey and follow.

I weave through the crowd, keeping my distance.

They disappear down a dimly lit corridor.

Phone steady, I record as James backs the redhead against the wall, his body pressing against hers. His hand slides up her thigh. Beneath the hem. He trails kisses along her shoulder to the base of her neck. When his mouth finds hers, the kiss is deep, possessive, consuming.

Nausea rolls over me, hot and acidic.

Was it ever like this with us?

The thrill of his touch is a faded photograph, the colors muted by months of broken promises. Nothing is left but a dull ache.

A man bumps my shoulder. “Are you recording them, you little minx?”

Shame floods my face.

I turn and run. Back through the crowd. Back through the double doors. Back into the brightly lit corridor.

The security guard yells something, but his words are lost in the deafening thrum in my ears.

I burst out into the alley, gasping for air.

The night swallows me whole. I wipe at my wet eyes and force myself to walk.

James’s proposal flashes before my eyes.

Down on one knee, bathed in candlelight. Eyes shining with… what?

Love?

Lies?

It doesn’t matter anymore.

I stop, fingers trembling as I swipe through my phone. Send. One video after the other.

Forever barely lasted a year.

Tears stream down my face. A silent scream builds inside me. My ringtone cuts through the quiet residential street. A jarring intrusion.

James’s name on the screen sparks a twisted hope.

Maybe he finally sees the pain he’s causing.

“What the actual fuck, Amy?” His voice explodes, shattering the thought.

My heels pound against the pavement. “That’s what I should ask you!”

“Why the hell did you record us? What’s your endgame here?”

I freeze. “My endgame? James, I’m your fiancée!”

“So you keep reminding me. Fuck, I get it.” His words slur, laced with irritation.

My grip tightens on the phone. “Clearly, you need reminding!”

“But those videos… That’s some sneaky shit, Mimi.”

Mimi.

The pet name lands like a physical blow. A mockery. A reminder of the man he used to be.

Silence stretches, punctuated only by his heavy breathing.

“Mimi? You still there? You better delete those videos, you hear me?”

“Is this really all you have to say?” My voice is hollow.

I’m beyond anger. Beyond tears.

Just numb.

“Delete them,” he orders.

“You’re joking, right?!”

“I’m serious.”

“You were all over her! I saw it all! Don’t you even care?!”

“It’s just a bit of fun, fuuuck. Don’t be so dramatic. You always blow things out of proportion. Maybe if you weren’t always so wound up—”

“Enough!” I scream. “Enough. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

He sighs loudly. “Oh, please. I give you ’til tomorrow morning to pipe down.”

“Fuck you. It’s over!”

“Mimi—”

I slam End Call and shove the phone into my bag.

“To hell with you, James Devlin.”

I yank the diamond ring off and hurl it into the darkness.

It vanishes. The suffocating weight goes with it. My finger feels wonderfully, terrifyingly light.

There’s no turning back.

I kick off my heels. The cold pavement is a relief. I walk toward the intersection, the slap of my bare feet a defiant rhythm against the silence.

-Two-

Shoes clutched in one hand, keys dangling from the other, I trudge toward our apartment door. The hallway smells of chemical cleaner and cloying air freshener. A familiar scent that now turns my stomach. The weight of the night presses down.

Don’t think, just move.

Get inside.

Pack.

The commands fire rapidly, a desperate attempt to block out the whirlwind threatening to overwhelm me.

Before I slide the key into the lock, the door swings open. James blocks the threshold, hair a mess and shirt half-untucked. The musky scent of alcohol and something sickly sweet clings to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He snatches the keys, his fingers brushing mine.

Revulsion shoots up my arm. I recoil.

He pockets the keys and shoves me back, sending my spine into the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Weren’t you just yelling that it’s over?”

“Get out of my way, James.” My throat constricts.

I move to step past him. He shifts, a solid wall. “I don’t think so—” His eyes narrow, lingering on the wig. “Wow. This look really suits you. Hot, sexy Mimi.” His voice drips with a false charm that makes my skin crawl.

He steps closer, eyes raking over my body with a dark, predatory hunger.

“It would be a shame to let it go to waste. I know you didn’t mean what you said, so let’s just kiss and make—”

“Don’t touch me!” I shove his chest, but he barely budges. “I’m tired of your games. I saw the truth with my own eyes.”

“Like I said, just a bit of fun. Meant nothing.” He advances, an amused glint in his eyes. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? I always come home to you.”

“You always come home. But not to me.”

He sighs, exasperated. “Why is everything always so complicated with you?”

“Complicated?” My voice cracks. “Did you seriously expect me to stand by and watch as you fuck half the female population of Madison?”

“I expected you to be more understanding.” He invades my space, backing me against the wall again.

The hallway shrinks. The air reeks of stale alcohol.

“I told you this whole fiancé thing is new to me, but I’m working on it. What more do you want?”

“What more… do I want?” Tears prick my eyes. “I want my fiancé back. The man who loved me. I want the passion, the warmth, the way you used to look at me—” My voice dissolves into a choked sob.

James runs a hand through his hair, eyes squeezed shut. “Wow. You’re such a buzzkill.”

The word strikes me cold.

A buzzkill?

Knowing I’m getting nowhere, I wipe my face and try to sidestep him. He grabs my elbow, fingers digging in. I wince as pain cuts through my numbness.

“Of all the women I could’ve been with, I chose you.” He jabs a finger at my chest, forcing me back. “I’m marrying you, for God’s sake! How is that not enough?”

My back hits the wall. “Get your finger out of my face!” I slap his hand away. “It’s over. No wedding. No us. I’m done.”

He grabs my left hand, crushing it. “Done? Do you know how many women would kill for this ring?” His eyes widen on my bare finger. “Where is it? You dare guilt-trip me when you’re not even wearing it?”

“I was wearing it.” I yank my hand free. “But I threw it away.”

Satisfaction dies instantly as his face contorts.

“You threw it away?” His hand snaps around my throat.

I gasp. Air vanishes.

His face is inches from mine, breath rancid. “That ring cost more than you’ll make in your pathetic lifetime. And you threw it away like trash?!”

“Same way you threw our love away,” I rasp.

He pulls me from the wall only to slam me back against it. My head hits the drywall.

I bite my lip to stifle a cry.

“You’ve gone too far,” he hisses in my ear.

“Let go!” I claw at his wrist, nails digging deep.

His grip loosens. I suck in a desperate, ragged gasp.

“You fucked with the wrong guy, sweetheart.” He barely notices my struggles. “I don’t give a shit if it takes you all night. You are going back and fetching my ring.”

I turn my head, but he grabs my chin, fingers digging into my cheeks to force me to look at him.

His brown eyes burn with contempt. “Pray you find it. Because if you don’t, I will come for everything. And you can kiss that little café of yours goodbye.”

“I knew it!” I choke out. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you used that loan against me.”

“You’re the heartless bitch who threw away the engagement ring I gave you.” He releases my face, lip curling. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Not sure anymore.” My chin wobbles. “But I’m no longer yours. You don’t deserve me. You deserve to drown in filthy hookups with your pathetic, interchangeable women—”

His hand whips out.

Pain explodes. A blinding flash of white.

He hit me.

The thought reverberates through numbed senses.

“Don’t ever forget your place,” he warns, his chest heaving. “And don’t think for a second you’ll dictate how this goes down.”

He hit me.

The words repeat. A broken record.

Shame swells in my throat.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t speak.

Can’t think.

“Bring the fucking ring back,” he growls.

The door slams, and my legs buckle.

I crumple to the floor, head bowed, the thin fabric of my dress bunched in my hands.

The sting on my cheek is nothing compared to the ruin inside my chest. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together.

Broken.

Crushed.

Lost.

The carpet scratches my knees.

This hallway, this apartment, this life…

It’s all been a lie.

A carefully constructed illusion. A trap. And I, the naïve fool, fell for it completely.

I close my eyes. Tears come in a hot torrent. A sob escapes, a ragged sound that echoes in the empty hallway.

There is no escape.

I have to face it.

But how?

How do you start over when the foundation is demolished?

Dizziness rolls over me. I lean forward, palms flat against the ground, head spinning.

I take a deep breath.

I have to find that ring.

Not for him.

For my café.

For my future.

For me.

With a shaky breath, I push off the floor. My legs tremble as I straighten my dress, wipe the tears, and stand.

I may be broken. But I’m not done.

I will find that ring.

-Three-

The cab’s vinyl seat sticks to my thighs. Each block is an agonizing countdown. Streetlights blur past, hazy orange halos against the inky sky. The window reflects a ghost: eyes wide and haunted, jaw clenched until my teeth ache. The driver shoots curious glances in the rearview mirror. Shame burns hot in my cheeks. The weight of the night churns with the nausea in my stomach.

“Stop here, please.”

The car lurches to a halt. “Here, Miss?” His question is laced with cautious concern.

“Yes,” I mumble, fumbling for the fare.

I stumble onto the sidewalk, gasping for breath.

The house where I threw my future away looms across the street.

Dark.

Silent.

My stomach twists.

Standing here for the second time tonight makes my head spin. The front yard stretches out, a manicured lawn elevated above a low stone wall. Heart lodged in my throat, I climb the two wide steps to the flagstone path. Kicking off my heels, I drop my bag beside them and step onto the grass. The blades are soft and cool beneath my bare feet.

Minutes stretch into an eternity.

Panic tightens its grip.

Every breath is a painful reminder this moment is real. The vastness of the night presses in. Even driving alone from state to state, I never felt this adrift. This aloneness is an icy hand squeezing the air from my lungs.

My phone slips from my numb fingers. I clutch the rough bark of the nearest tree, the coarse texture grounding me. Sweat beads on my forehead, plastering the synthetic curls to my skin. Bitter bile rises in my throat. I swallow hard, pressing my forehead to the bark.

“Is everything okay out there?” A voice, deep and resonant, carries across the lawn.

I jerk upright.

A figure steps out of the shadows. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His features are indistinct, but his stance is firm.

“Sorry.” My reply is thin. “I’m… looking…” I push away from the tree. “Looking for…” The words are thick on my tongue.

I stumble forward. The ground shifts. The grass rushes up to meet me.