Betrayed By My Fiancée

Chapter 11: A Room Without Warmth

I wake up slowly, stretching slightly before my eyes even open properly. The room feels… quiet.

Too quiet.

I turn my head, already reaching out without thinking. His side of the bed is empty. Cold.

“Oh… you’re awake already? Morning,” I mumble, my voice still thick with sleep as I push myself up.

“Morning,” Dante says. Short and flat.

He doesn’t even look at me. He just walks past and goes straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind him like I’m not even part of the room.

I blink, sitting there for a second, trying to process that. A small frown pulls at my face before I can stop it. Something’s off.

I stare at the door a little longer than I should, then shake it off. Or at least, I try to. The feeling doesn’t leave, though. It just sits there quietly, waiting.

I get out of bed and walk to my wardrobe, scanning through my clothes. My fingers stop on a mini dress. Not too much, just enough. Simple, but it always gets his attention.

One of his favorites.

I hold it against myself for a second, staring at my reflection. I don’t even know why I picked it. Maybe I do. I slip it on anyway, adjusting it slightly, smoothing it over my hips.

I shouldn’t have to think this much about getting his attention. That thought irritates me more than I expect. When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s already in his own world.

Moving fast.

Focused. Getting dressed like he’s late for something, even though he’s not. He doesn’t say anything. Not even a glance. I watch him for a second.

Then I turn away and head into the bathroom, closing the door a little harder than I need to.

The water runs, but it doesn’t calm me like it usually does. My mind keeps circling the same things. His tone. His face. The way he didn’t even look at me. By the time I step out, he’s on his laptop.

Typing.

Focused.

Still not looking at me. I don’t say anything. I just walk past him and go to the kitchen. If he’s going to act like that, fine. I’ll act normal too. I start making breakfast—eggs, toast, fruit. Simple. Familiar.

The sound of his keyboard follows me from the other room. He’s waiting. For what, I don’t know. When everything’s ready, I place the plates on the table.

“Breakfast is ready,” I say. He nods, finally closing the laptop and bringing it with him. He sets it right next to him when he sits down. Not even tucked away. Just… there.

Within reach. We start eating. It’s quiet. Too quiet. I take small bites, glancing up at him every now and then.

He looks distracted, like part of him isn’t even here. Like he’s somewhere else completely. Then his phone vibrates. Once.

He ignores it.

It vibrates again, louder this time, the sound scraping through the silence. I pause mid-bite, my eyes flicking to it.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up?” I ask calmly. “It might be important.” He doesn’t even look at it.

“No. Probably one of those scammers,” he says. “They’ve been calling nonstop, telling about insurance.” Too quick. Too much explanation. I nod slowly. “Okay then.” I take another bite, but now the quiet feels different.

Thicker.

Like something’s sitting in it. The phone vibrates again. This time he grabs it immediately. “One sec…” he mutters, already standing up.

And then he leaves the kitchen.

I don’t move.

My fork just hovers in the air for a second before I slowly lower it. I listen to his footsteps fade, my chest tightening without me meaning it to.

He always answers his calls in front of me. Always. So why not now? I pick up my fork again and force myself to keep eating. Normal. Act normal. But my thoughts are loud now, louder than everything else.

After a few minutes, he comes back. Sits down. Continues eating. Like nothing happened. No explanation. It was just nothing. I watch him for a second, then look down at my plate.

“So… what time are you knocking off?” I ask, keeping my tone steady. He pauses. Just slightly. “Actually… about that…” he starts. His voice isn’t as smooth as usual.

He shifts in his seat before continuing. “I’ll head home today. I’ll be sleeping there.” I look up. “At home?” I repeat. “My mom’s been complaining,” he says quickly. “Says she’s getting old and I don’t spend enough time with her.”

He smiles.

But it doesn’t feel real. I hold his gaze, searching for something—anything—but there’s nothing clear there. Just… distance. “It’s fine,” I say finally. “I understand.”

My voice sounds calm. But I can feel it. That small drop in my chest. He nods, a little too relieved. We go back to eating. But now the silence isn’t calm at all.

I take another bite, barely tasting it. My mind keeps replaying everything. Last night. The phone call. This morning. The way he won’t look at me. I don’t say anything. I didn't ask; I just wondered.

What is happening?

I watch him finish eating like he’s in a race.

It’s too fast, too stiff, like he just wants to be done and out. Dante’s always been calm, steady… but right now, he feels somewhere else. Not here with me. I keep my face neutral, acting like I’m not noticing, but my chest is tight.

He stands up, takes his plate to the sink, and doesn’t say a word. That alone feels off. Then he walks over to me, and I tilt my head up automatically, already expecting the usual. A proper goodbye. Something warm.

His lips touch my forehead.

Quick. Light. Gone. I don’t even react in time. My body just pauses. My eyes drop slowly, and something small sinks in my chest. It’s such a tiny thing, but it doesn’t feel small.

He turns away like nothing happened and grabs his keys. I watch him, trying to make sense of it, trying not to let my thoughts run too far. But they already are.

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?” I ask, softer than I planned. I hate how it comes out—small, almost unsure. He barely pauses. “I’m sorry, I’m late. I have an important meeting,” he says quickly.

Too quickly.

Then he pulls out cash and drops it on the table like that fixes something. “Here’s cab money. I’ll come pick you up, okay?” The door opens. Closes. And he’s gone before I can even answer.

I just sit there for a second. Still. Quiet. Letting everything catch up to me all at once. The silence feels loud, pressing in, like the room suddenly got smaller. It doesn’t feel right. None of it does. I swallow slowly, my fingers curling against the edge of the table.

My mind keeps going back to Leondra. The way she looked at him. That wasn’t nothing. That wasn’t confusion or curiosity. That was recognition. And Dante… he couldn’t even look at her. Not once. Like eye contact alone would expose something. Like he was avoiding more than just her.

I told myself I imagined it. I didn’t. Even when we were together—really together—something felt off. I felt it in the small pauses, in the way he’d drift for a second like his mind slipped somewhere else.

Even in the shower.

Even when he was holding me. His body was there. But sometimes… he wasn’t. And that call… “I don’t want to hurt her… just give me more time…” That doesn’t just disappear.

Those words don’t mean nothing.

They sit in my chest like something unfinished, something real.

That’s not a normal conversation. That’s someone stuck between two choices. And this morning? He didn’t look at me the same.

Didn’t talk the same.

Didn’t stay the same. The man who used to answer every call right in front of me walked away like I wasn’t even there. Then came back and acted normal, like I wouldn’t notice.

Like I don’t know him.

Too many small things. Too many little shifts that don’t add up. It’s like something’s been changing slowly, right in front of me, and I’ve been pretending not to see it.

I lean back and take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. It doesn’t help. It only makes everything clearer. I stand and start clearing the table. Plates. Cups. Anything to keep my hands busy. Water runs in the sink, but it doesn’t quiet my head. Nothing does.

When I’m done, I just stand there, staring at nothing. The apartment feels different without him. Colder. I grab my bag and head for the door. There’s no reason to stay here and sit with these thoughts. They’re already loud enough.

I step outside and close the door behind me. The day has started. But something in me knows… it’s not the same anymore.