ELENA DUVAL
I narrowed my eyes as I walked slowly through the short hallway and soon, I found Tyler, my ex-fiance on the edge of the large bed with a woman straddling in, kissing him. She had half of her face covered in a brown mask that matched her dress.
I froze in my next step and there was a small, unwanted prickle in my chest. I knew whatever had happened between Tyler and me, had been two years ago for him but for me, it felt like it was only a week ago. I had been married and there was nothing wrong with him moving on, and finding someone else or falling in love again. But still, the sight in front of me sent an ache to my chest.
I could only believe it was natural. I had once loved him. And he was my first. We had grown up together building dreams of getting married and a future
