CHAPTER 4 – WITNESS
1584 Words
The universe never warns you before it destroys you.
It doesn’t whisper, “Get ready.”. It doesn’t tell you, “Brace yourself.”.
It just… happens.
And on a gray, rainy Friday, Mara’s world finally stopped pretending.
That afternoon, Mara left work late. The clouds were heavy, low, rumbling like a warning she ignored. Her umbrella broke in the wind, so she ducked into a small café across Gabriel’s office building.
Just to wait out the rain. Just for a moment. Just until she could breathe normally again.
She took a seat near the window, her hands wrapped around a warm cup she didn’t drink from.
She was exhausted. Not physically — emotionally. From pretending. From smiling. From keeping the truth at arm’s length, as if distance alone could weaken it.
The rain thickened, streaking the glass. Cars passed in blurs of red lights.
Then one of them made her heart stop.
Gabriel’s car.
She blinked. Leaned closer.
Maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe she was imagining things.
But then the passenger door opened. And Lian stepped out.
Laughing. Looking radiant. Wearing the lipstick she claimed she bought for herself… the same shade Gabriel once complimented on Mara.
Her stomach dropped.
No. Not again. Not today.
Lian fixed her hair in the window’s reflection — the same nervous gesture she used when she wanted to impress someone. Then Gabriel came around the car and placed a hand on her lower back.
A touch too familiar. Too intimate. Too practiced.
Mara’s breath fractured.
The café’s chatter faded. Her heartbeat became the only sound in her head.
She watched as they crossed the street together. Laughing. Smiling. Matching each other’s pace.
Then Gabriel did something that felt like a blade pressed slowly into her chest.
He leaned down and kissed Lian…. on the lips. Not rushed. Not stolen. Not the kind of kiss born from impulse or guilt.
Familiar.
The kind of kiss two people share when they’ve already crossed every line together and no longer feel the need to hide the tenderness between them. And somehow, that gentleness hurt more than anything. Because it wasn’t wild or reckless — it was comfortable. It carried the softness of inside jokes, shared mornings, and conversations Mara was never a part of.
His hand moved to Lian’s cheek with muscle memory, like he’d done it a hundred times,each time a quiet betrayal Mara never saw.
And Lian…
Lian kissed him back with the kind of ease you don’t fake. Her fingers curled around his shirt, not hesitant, not shy — but certain. Confident. As if his body was a place she’d learned to lean into.
Watching them felt like watching her own life from the outside — a life she thought she understood, a love she thought was hers, crumbling quietly while everyone else kept breathing. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the realization that they looked comfortable together. Like they’d used to. Like they’d talked. Like they’d laughed about things Mara didn’t know. Like she had been replaced a long time ago, one small compromise at a time.
Her heart didn’t crack dramatically. It broke the way real hearts do — slowly, quietly, like someone tearing paper from the inside where nobody could see the pieces fall. And the worst part? A part of her still wanted to believe she hadn’t seen what she saw. That maybe she misunderstood. That maybe they were drunk, confused, stupid. That maybe Gabriel would still choose her, explain everything, pull her into his arms and swear the world made a mistake.
But lies don’t soften the truth. It was right there, in the tenderness of his hand, in the way they leaned into each other without hesitation, in the familiarity of their bodies meeting halfway. This wasn’t a mistake. This was history — just not the kind Mara was ever meant to know.
Mara’s hand flew to her mouth before she realized she was trembling. Her vision blurred — not from tears, but from disbelief so strong it threatened to crush her lungs.
“No,” she whispered. “Gabriel… why?”
But the rain drowned her voice.
She followed them. Not consciously — her body simply moved, driven by something primal, wounded, and desperate to understand. She stayed several feet behind, hood up, head lowered.
They didn’t notice her. They were too engrossed in each other.
To them, the world had shrunk into two people.
To Mara, the world had collapsed into silence.
They entered a hotel. A large one — elegant, discreet, a place built for secrets.
Mara stopped under the awning, clutching her chest. The rain had soaked her to the bone, but she didn’t feel the cold. She felt nothing. Only a hollow ache expanding inside her ribs.
They walked to the elevator.
She followed, stepping in right as the doors began to close. None of them looked sideways.
Gabriel pressed the 4th floor. Lian looped her arm through his. They were smiling.
Mara stood behind them, shaking silently, staring at the floor, heart thundering against her ribs so hard she thought they would hear it.
But they didn’t. They were too busy being happy.
The doors chimed. They stepped out. Mara followed again.
A quiet hallway. Dim lights. Soft carpet. Muted sounds behind closed doors.
Then Gabriel unlocked a room. They slipped inside.
Mara reached the door just as Lian’s laugh echoed — the same laugh she used during their sleepovers, but here it sounded… sinful.
The door didn’t latch fully. There was a narrow crack. Just enough to hear. Just enough to see. Just enough to destroy her.
Mara’s pulse hammered in her ears. Her hands trembled violently. But she leaned closer. Because somehow, knowing hurt less than wondering.
Through that tiny crack, she saw Lian push Gabriel onto the bed, laughing breathlessly.
“You missed me?” Lian teased.
Gabriel smirked — a smirk Mara once loved.
“You have no idea.”
And then — Gabriel moved closely to Lian, while removing the tie on his polo shirt. Lian helped him remove his polo shirt and caressed his chest up to her muscles. They kissed torridly.
Gabriel’s hand slid to the back of Lian’s waist — the exact way he used to touch Mara when he wanted her close. The same grip. The same slow pull. The same familiar tenderness he once reserved only for her.
Her breath stilled. Because he wasn’t touching Lian like a mistake. He was touching her like a habit.
Gabriel was on top of Lian. Slowly riding her p**ssy. He licked Lian’s n**pl*s – unhurried, and not rough. Tender and full of care.
“Lian ~..” Gabriel’s voice – low, familiar, the voice he used at 2 A.M. when he pulled Mara close – murmured something against Lian’s neck.
Mara couldn’t hear the words, but she didn’t need to. The tone alone told the story.
Then Lian answered, her voice soft, almost pleading, “Don’t stop…” while moaning loudly, her back arched from the pleasure she received from Gabriel.
Mara’s stomach twisted.
Clothes shifted — Lian’s dress strap falling, fabric sliding against her skin, the unmistakable rustle of two people who no longer cared about modesty or caution.
It wasn’t graphic. It wasn’t loud. It was simply undeniable.
The intimacy wasn’t in what they did — but how they did it. With ease. With familiarity. With a comfort that could only come from time.
insert full Rated R LIVE SCENE here — the exact physical betrayal she witnesses in real time
insert how Gabriel touches Lian the same way he used to hold Mara
insert the whispered lines, the sounds, the clothing falling, the intimacy that proves everything
insert Gabriel calling Lian’s name in a way Mara once thought was sacred
Mara’s knees nearly buckled.
Their voices were muffled but clear enough to shatter her:
“Love…”
“Love…”
“Gabriel…”
“Lian…”
Words meant for her. Words gifted to someone else.
The room spun. Her heart — swollen with denial for days — finally split down the middle.
A pain so sharp surged through her chest she had to clutch the wall to stay upright.
Her breath broke into shallow gasps, tears blurring the crack in the door until it became a smear of color and movement.
She couldn’t look away. Because watching hurt, but walking away felt impossible.
When the scene became too much — when the sounds became unbearable — when the last pieces of her heart crumbled into dust— She backed away.
One step. Then another. Then she ran.
She stumbled into the elevator. Her reflection in the metal doors didn’t look like her.
Eyes empty. Face pale. Chest heaving. A ghost. The doors closed.
And for the first time, Mara allowed herself to collapse. She slid to the floor, covered her mouth, and let the first sob tear through her — raw, silent, strangled.
Nothing in life prepares you for the moment you become a stranger to your own heart.
The elevator dinged. The lobby blurred. Outside, the rain poured harder.
Mara walked into it. Letting it hide her tears. Letting it wash away the last illusion she held of her marriage. The truth had been revealed. And she could no longer deny it.
Gabriel and Lian weren’t just a mistake. They were a choice.
And Mara finally understood: Love wasn’t what broke her. Betrayal taught her the ways love can kill.
- Writer
