Betrayed By My Fiancée

Chapter 22: Feelings Lie Sometimes

Time moved strangely that day. Slow enough to feel every minute, fast enough to lose whole hours without noticing.

I spent most of it with Clara, talking about old memories, laughing at silly things we used to care about, letting her pull me into stories from years ago when life felt lighter and easier.

For little moments, it helped. I laughed for real a few times. I even forgot myself for a second here and there. But it never lasted long.

Dante stayed in the background of everything like a shadow that wouldn’t move.

Even when I wasn’t thinking his name, I felt him there. By the time the light outside began to fade, the apartment felt different. Heavier. Like something was waiting at the door whether I wanted it or not.

Then he came.

The door opened like nothing between us had shifted at all. Dante walked in holding a small plastic bag, calm face, easy steps, normal voice.

“Hey,” he said, like we were still fine. Like I hadn’t been standing in confusion for days. Clara didn’t even let him breathe.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do,” she said, snatching the bag straight out of his hand before anyone reacted.

Then she walked off toward her room like she owned the place. “Jay, I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” she added over her shoulder, already halfway gone. Neither of us stopped her.

That was Clara.

Then it was quiet.

Too quiet. Just me and him standing there with too much unsaid between us. My chest tightened before he even opened his mouth again.

“How are you?” Dante asked. His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he was asking because it was expected, not because he cared about the answer.

“I’m fine,” I said first.

But the words I’d been holding all day came out before I could stop them.

“And you? I’m sure work is taking its toll. You’ve been busy… a lot. You barely touch or kiss me these days.”

I felt something shifting inside me while I spoke. Something that had been building quietly for a long time. He straightened a little.

“I told you, I’m working. This job is really demanding, Jade.”

But he still wasn’t really looking at me. And I was looking right at him. That did something to me.

“You’ve changed, Don…”

I started, then stopped and took a breath. My fingers pressed into my palm.

“Don’t you want to get married anymore?”

The second I said it, the room changed. The words landed heavy and stayed there. Dante said nothing. Not one word. Not even a movement. Just silence. And that silence wasn’t empty.

It was full of everything he didn’t have the courage to say. My throat tightened.

“So… that’s it then?”

Still nothing.

Something in me clicked. Quietly. Clearly. “You’re a coward, Dante.” My voice stayed steady even though my chest wasn’t.

“Because you already chose her over me… and you weren’t man enough to tell me.”

That was when he finally looked at me. Really looked at me. Like I had dragged the truth into the room where he couldn’t hide it anymore.

He exhaled and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“I had no choice,”

he said.

But hearing it didn’t soften anything. It didn’t explain anything. It only made it worse. Then the door opened again. Leondra walked in like she belonged there.

“There you are,” she said, annoyed more than surprised. “I’ve been waiting in the car. You said five minutes.”

Her eyes moved over me for half a second. Nothing in them. No shame. No discomfort. No pause. Like I was just furniture in the room. She walked straight to Dante and took hold of his arm. “Come on,” she said.

“The wedding planner called. He’s at the mansion.”

Wedding.

The word hit me so hard it felt physical. Suddenly everything made sense in the ugliest way possible. I didn’t need to ask another question. I already knew enough.

“Go on,” I said quietly.

“You made your choice, right? Go on, leave.” Dante hesitated. Only for a second. But he didn’t stay. He didn’t choose me in that second. He didn’t explain. He didn’t fight. He just followed her.

Then they were gone.

The door closed behind them but didn’t latch fully, like even the apartment couldn’t finish what had happened. I stood there motionless for a moment.

Nothing happened at first.

Then everything did. Every silence I had excused. Every strange feeling I had pushed down. Every time I told myself it was fine when it wasn’t.

My knees weakened.

I covered my face, but it didn’t stop anything. The tears came hard and fast, like they had been waiting for permission.

Four years.

Four years of loving him.

Four years of building something I thought belonged to both of us. Four years of ignoring cracks because I wanted the picture whole. And I still hoped. That part hurt most.

“I was supposed to be the one…” I whispered, voice shaking apart. The room felt too big now. Too quiet. Too cold. Then I felt movement behind me.

Clara.

She didn’t say a word. She just came close, sank down behind me, and wrapped her arms around me like she already knew I couldn’t hold myself together anymore.

I didn’t pull away. I broke right there in her arms, and she stayed. I sat on that floor for a long time after, like my body didn’t know what to do with itself anymore.

Clara’s arms stayed around me, warm and steady, holding me together because I clearly wasn’t doing it myself.

My breathing slowly settled. The crying didn’t stop all at once. It just softened into smaller waves. Clara never rushed me.

“I’m here, you are not alone.” she said softly near my shoulder. “Take your time.” That made my chest tighten again, but differently.

Heavier, gentler. I nodded a little and leaned back into her. It hit me properly then. Four years. Not as a memory. As weight. Four years I had carried without knowing how heavy it was.

Clara loosened her hold and moved in front of me so she could see my face.

“Hey… look at me.” I did. Her expression changed when she saw me properly, but she didn’t look away.

“You’re not the one who lost here,” she said. “He did.” I swallowed. “It doesn’t feel like that.” “I know,” she answered immediately.

“But feelings lie sometimes.”

A broken little sound left me. Almost a laugh. Almost a sob. She stood and closed the front door fully this time.

The click sounded louder than it should have. Then she came back and held out her hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you off this floor.” I hesitated, then took it. Her grip was firm and careful as she helped me stand. My legs felt shaky, but she didn’t let go until I was steady.

“Good,” she murmured.

“Now we move. No staying stuck.” We went to the couch. I sat slowly, hands in my lap. The silence now felt different. Not empty. Just after. Clara sat beside me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head. “If I start, I won’t stop.” “Then don’t,” she said. “We’re not forcing anything tonight.”

Something loosened in my chest.

She got me water and handed me the glass. “Drink.” I obeyed. “Good. See? We’re surviving already.” I gave her a tired look. “You’re really something.” “I know,” she said quickly.

We sat there until my phone buzzed on the table. Both of us looked. Dante. My stomach reacted before my mind did. Clara didn’t touch it.

“Your call.”

I stared at the screen, heart doing that stupid little jump it still knew how to do. Then I turned it face down. “I can’t.” “Then don’t.” Later she made me change and sent me to bed.

“You’re not doing emotional damage on furniture,” she said. I didn’t argue. When I got into bed, it felt strange for a second. Clara stood in the doorway. “I’ll be in the guest room. If you need me, call.” I nodded.

She paused. “And Jay?” “Yeah?” “You’re allowed to be angry tomorrow.”

Then she left.

I stared at the ceiling while the pain settled into something quieter. It was still there, but it wasn’t exploding anymore. Minutes passed.

Then my thoughts drifted somewhere unexpected. A rooftop. Calm eyes. A quiet voice. Mike. I frowned and turned onto my side. Why him? I tried pushing the thought away, but it stayed in the background.

It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. Still, my mind held onto it longer than I wanted. Outside, the night deepened.

My eyes slowly closed.

And just before sleep took me, one thing stayed behind. Not Dante. Not what I lost. Something quieter. Something changing. And for the first time… I didn’t push it away.