Betrayed By My Fiancée

Chapter 2: Silent Doubt

I sat there on the edge of my bed, my phone still in my hand, screen gone dark but the image still burning behind my eyes. It didn’t fade. That was the worst part. It just stayed there, like my brain refused to let it go.

My face didn’t change though. I stayed still, almost annoyingly calm.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t even move for a while. Eventually, I just placed the phone face down beside me and lay back on the bed.

The ceiling looked too bright, too normal. Like nothing had just shifted under my feet. My chest felt tight, but I told myself to breathe normally. In. Out. Like it was just another day.

There had to be a reason. That thought came fast, like I was defending him before I even gave myself time to think about anything else. Dante wasn’t careless. He wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t lie. He didn’t play games. At least, that’s what I kept repeating in my head, over and over, like it would make the image disappear.

I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket over me, more out of habit than comfort.

The apartment was too quiet. Every little sound felt louder than it should’ve. I kept waiting for my phone to ring. He said he would call. He always called. That was just how it worked with him. Tonight couldn’t just break that pattern. It wouldn’t.

Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep without even realizing it.

When I woke up, sunlight was already filling the room. For a second, I felt normal. Just blank, not heavy. Then I reached for my phone.

Fifteen missed calls—all Dante.

My stomach tightened instantly, like my body remembered everything before my brain fully caught up. There was one message waiting.

I’m sorry. I had something urgent to attend to. I’ll explain.

I stared at it for a long time. My face didn’t move. I didn’t reply. I just locked the phone again and sat there, holding it loosely in my hand like it didn’t matter.

Then I got up.

Shower. Clothes. Hair tied back. Same routine. Same movements. I watched myself in the mirror, like I was someone else. I looked fine. That was the funny part. Completely fine. Calm. Normal. But my eyes didn’t match the rest of me.

I didn’t let myself think too much. Thinking made things worse. So I didn’t.

By the time I left my apartment, the air outside felt sharper than usual. Cold against my skin.

I flagged down a cab without hesitation and gave the driver the address for Vane City. My voice sounded steady. That surprised me.

The ride was short. Too short for my thoughts to settle. The city slowly softened into quieter streets, and I kept my hands folded in my lap the entire time, as if I relaxed even slightly, something would spill out.

When I got there, I paid and stepped out. The school stood in front of me, bright and familiar. Safe, in a way. I liked that. I needed that today.

Inside, it was still early. No children yet. Just quiet rooms waiting to be filled with noise. I moved automatically, like my body knew what to do even if my mind didn’t want to cooperate. I straightened tiny chairs. I arranged toys. I wiped surfaces that didn’t even look dirty.

It grounded me a little. Not completely.

Just enough.

Some of the mothers started arriving early. A few pregnant women too, like usual. They liked to talk, ask questions, and check in. I answered them the way I always did—patient, calm, smiling when needed. It helped me stay in control.

I was wiping down a small table when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Jade.”

I turned.

Dante stood in the doorway holding a bouquet. Big ones. Bright ones. The kind that should’ve made me smile instantly.

For a second, everything in me went quiet.

He looked the same. Too normal. Too collected. Like nothing had happened at all. My eyes moved from the flowers back to his face, trying to find something—anything—that didn’t fit.

I walked towards him and took the flowers.

“You came early,” I said.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied.

“What’s the occasion?”

He smiled a little. “We’re getting married. That’s the occasion.”

A small breath left me. Almost a laugh, but not really.

My fingers tightened slightly around the flowers without me noticing.

Then my mind flickered.

Just for a second.

The photo.

I pushed it away immediately.

Not now. Not here.

Trust mattered more. It always had. I told myself that like it was a rule I wasn’t allowed to break. He noticed, "Are you okay?" He asked.

I looked at him again and forced my face to stay steady.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly when he asked. Maybe too quickly. “Just tired.”

Before anything else could happen, the classroom door opened.

Two women stepped in.

I turned instinctively, and my body went still before I even understood why.

Her. The woman from the photo.

She stopped for a second when she saw him. Dante. Their eyes met, and in that moment, something shifted so fast I almost missed it.

He looked away immediately. Like he didn’t know her. Like he didn’t want to know her.

She didn’t react. Not outwardly. She just walked in with her friend like everything was normal.

But it wasn’t.

As she passed me, I felt it—sharp, immediate. That look. Not curiosity. Not confusion. Something colder. Disgust, maybe. Or judgment. Either way, it hit straight through my chest and stayed there.

I didn’t move. I didn’t react. I just held the flowers tighter until my fingers started to ache.

Slowly, I turned back to Dante.

This time, the space between us felt different. Heavier. Like things were sitting in it, neither of us was saying out loud.

He knew something.

I knew something, too.

And still, I didn’t ask. Not yet.