Bound to a Life He Never Meant to Share

Elona's Pov The music was loud enough to make the walls tremble, the bass thudding through the soles of my shoes as I stood outside Damien's house. Warm yellow lights spilled from the windows, laughter rising and falling like waves. His birthday party was in full swing. I tightened my grip around the small packed box in my hand. Five years. For five years, I had never missed his birthday. Not once. Even when I was broke. Even when I was exhausted after shifts that barely paid rent. I always found a way to make him feel special. Because that was love, wasn't it? I smoothed my palms over my dress, exhaling. It wasn't expensive, but it was clean, soft, and chosen with care, just like everything I ever gave him. Tonight was supposed to be different. It was meant to remind him—remind us—that we had survived everything: illness, poverty, fear. The nights I stayed awake praying he wouldn't stop breathing beside me. I smiled to myself as I stepped inside. The living room was packed with faces I recognized—friends from his office, acquaintances from academy days. Music, drinks, clinking glasses. Someone shouted his name, and a cheer followed. "Damien!" someone called. I instinctively searched for him but didn't see him. Probably upstairs, I thought. Maybe he was waiting for me. I had a surprise for him, something special I'd planned for weeks, even when my bank account screamed at me not to. He was worth it. My heart fluttered stupidly at the idea. I slipped through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nodding at greetings. I was his girlfriend—the girl who was always there, always quiet, always dependable. Climbing the stairs slowly, my heels softened against the carpet, the noise dulling behind me. That's when I heard the laughter.Soft. Slow. Sultry. It wasn't Damien's. I stopped in front of his bedroom door, fingers tightening around the packed box. The music downstairs thumped louder, mocking my sudden stillness. For a moment, I told myself I was imagining things. The music was loud. My mind was tired. Love makes you excuse things before they even happen. Then I heard his voice.Breathless. Familiar. My stomach dropped. "No!" I whispered, shaking my head. "No, no, no…" Was this really my imagination? I raised my hand to knock just once when the door shifted slightly under my touch. It was already unlocked. I pushed it open.And everything I was… shattered. Damien was there, on his bed. Not alone. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back in laughter as his mouth traced her neck like it belonged there. His hands—hands I had held through hospital corridors—gripped her skin with hunger. My brain refused to catch up. The packed box slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft, useless sound. Neither of them noticed at first.I couldn't breathe. My ears rang like blood roaring, drowning out the music downstairs. My vision blurred, the room tilting as if I'd stepped off something high without realizing it. Then Damien looked up. His eyes met mine. Instead of guilt, instead of shock, I saw irritation. Like I didn't belong there. "Elona," he said flatly. Just my name. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped. The girl followed his gaze, eyes widening briefly before a slow, amused smile curved her lips. She didn't scramble away. She just looked at me like I was nothing. My chest tightened painfully. "Damien…" My voice came out thin, fragile. "It's your birthday. I—" He shoved her aside and stood, not bothering to pull on a shirt. "Are you insane?" he said, running a hand through his hair. "Do you have no sense of boundaries?" Boundaries? What did he mean by that? The word hit harder than a slap."I thought—" My throat burned. "I thought we were—" He crossed the room in three long strides. And before I could finish, his hand came down across my face.The sound was sharp. Resounding. My head snapped to the side, pain blooming across my cheek, heat spreading fast. The room went deadly quiet, the music downstairs suddenly sounding too far away. I tasted blood."Don't ever embarrass me like that again," Damien said coldly. "You were never part of my life. You were just… convenient." Convenient. At his words, my life flashed violently before my eyes: hospital corridors, sleepless nights, drained savings, resignation letters, skipped meals, whispered prayers. I had given him everything. Five years of love reduced to a word that meant replaceable. Laughter broke out behind him. The girl propped herself on one elbow, watching me with open amusement. "You really thought you mattered?" she asked lightly. "Oh, I thought you could buy a man's heart with medical bills. That's cute." All my world shattered in fragments. Confusion blazed through my eyes, unspoken questions swirling. I didn't scream; I didn't cry. I bent slowly, picked up the crushed box from the floor, and held it against my chest, as if it could keep my heart from spilling out. Then I turned and walked away. My vision blurred with unshed tears as I exited. No one stopped me. Downstairs, the party roared on. Someone handed out drinks. Someone laughed too loudly. "Damien's" name echoed again, followed by cheers. I walked into the night unnoticed. The rain started halfway down the street—cold, heavy, relentless. By the time I reached the corner, I was soaked—hair clinging to my face, dress ruined, mascara burning my eyes. I didn't care. I stood under the streetlight, shaking, clutching a gift meant for a man who had erased me with a single slap. The streetlight flickered above me, its glow trembling on wet asphalt. Cars passed, tires hissing through puddles, headlights cutting across my face before disappearing again. No one slowed. No one noticed. That felt fitting. I stared down at the packed box in my hands. The edges were crushed, the fabric darkened with water. Inside was the watch I'd spent weeks choosing—the one I bought after selling the last piece of jewelry my mother ever gave me, and saving non stop. For his birthday, I had told myself.My fingers trembled as I opened it. The watch gleamed faintly under the streetlight—perfect, untouched, yet useless. A sound tore from my throat before I realized I was crying. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was broken. I had never felt anything like it. My phone trembled in my wet hands as I tried to unlock it. Once. Twice. I wiped the screen against my dress, blinking through tears until the letters stopped swimming. "Claire," I whispered when she answered. My voice broke. And so did I. "Elona?" Her voice sharpened instantly. "What's wrong?" I opened my mouth, but nothing came out."Elona," she said again, slower now. "Where are you?" "I—" My voice cracked so badly it scared me. "I don't know." That wasn't entirely true. I knew where I was. I just didn't know where I belonged anymore."Are you safe?" she asked. Safe. I laughed, a short, hollow sound that dissolved into a sob. My knees buckled, and I crouched down, wrapping my arms around myself as if I could hold my body together. "He—" I tried again. "He didn't even hesitate." "Who?" Claire demanded. "Damien." The words barely escaped my lips when my phone hung up. Good. There was no need to explain. She was the type who hated Damien, suspicious of him. Not because of how close I was to him, but because he hadn't paid a visit since he left the hospital. I overlooked it—after all, he wished me well right there. I didn't expect much. I took a ragged exhale as the rain kept pouring down on me. Cold. Heavy. I pressed my forehead against my knees, rain dripping from my hair onto the pavement. "I don't have anything left." I sat there long after, staring at my reflection in a shallow puddle—mascara streaked, eyes swollen, cheeks flushed with humiliation. I barely recognized the woman staring back. She looked small. Claire's car pulled up ten minutes later, brakes screeching as she jumped out without even closing the door behind her. "Elona!" She wrapped her arms around me before I could stand, pulling me against her chest. She smelled like laundry detergent and warmth and home. I broke completely, sobbing into her jacket, clutching the fabric like it was the only solid thing left in the world. "I loved him," I choked. "I really loved him." "I know," she said softly, rubbing my back. "I know."