The third anniversary
CHAPTER 1 — THE THIRD ANNIVERSARY
Amara Bennett stood before the mirror, smoothing the red dress over her hips for what felt like the hundredth time.
Tonight had to be perfect.
Three years. Three whole years of loving Ryan Cole, supporting his dreams, forgiving his mistakes and convincing herself that every sacrifice she made was worth it.
Tonight, she planned to surprise him with a romantic dinner at the restaurant where they had shared their first date.
She had spent almost all her savings on his present—a silver wristwatch he had admired months ago. She had even taken an extra shift at work to afford it.
Her phone vibrated.
Ryan: Baby, don’t wait up. Something came up at work.
Amara stared at the message. Again?
For the past few weeks, Ryan had been distant. His calls had become shorter, his excuses more frequent, and his once-affectionate messages had lost their warmth. Whenever she asked whether something was wrong, he accused her of being suspicious.
Tonight, however, she refused to let her fears ruin their anniversary.
She typed: Amara: I understand, baby. Happy anniversary to us. I love you.
She waited for his response. Nothing came.
With a small sigh, she picked up the gift bag and headed outside. Perhaps seeing her would remind him how much their relationship meant.
An hour later, Amara arrived at the restaurant. The manager greeted her warmly and led her to a table decorated with red roses and candles.
She checked her phone. No call. No message.
She called Ryan. The first call rang unanswered. The second went straight to voicemail.
Then she remembered something. Ryan had once mentioned a lounge near the restaurant where his colleagues sometimes gathered after work. If he was still busy, perhaps she could stop by and surprise him there.
The thought made her smile.
She paid for her taxi and entered the lounge. Music thumped through the room. Couples laughed beneath the dim lights, glasses clinked, and waiters hurried between tables.
Amara scanned the room. Then she saw him.
Ryan sat in a secluded booth with his arm wrapped around a woman in a fitted black dress.
At first, Amara couldn’t understand what she was seeing. The woman leaned toward him and whispered something into his ear. Ryan laughed, brushed a kiss against her cheek, then kissed her on the lips.
Not a friendly kiss. Not a misunderstanding. A kiss that belonged to two people who had done it many times before.
The gift bag slipped from Amara’s fingers. The sound was small beneath the music, but Ryan heard it. He turned. Their eyes met.
For one terrible second, nobody moved. Then Ryan’s face changed.
“Amara?”
She couldn’t speak. Her gaze moved from his face to the woman beside him. The woman didn’t even look ashamed. Instead, she adjusted her dress and examined Amara as though she were an unwelcome visitor.
Ryan stood quickly. “Baby, what are you doing here?”
Amara let out a broken laugh. “Baby?” Her voice trembled. “You still call me baby?”
“Listen to me. This isn’t what you think.”
She looked at the woman, who was now holding Ryan’s hand beneath the table. “Then tell me what it is, Ryan.”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Amara felt something inside her collapse. Three years of memories rushed through her mind—the promises, the late-night conversations, the days she had gone without buying things for herself because she wanted to save money for their future.
Had any of it meant anything to him?
She bent down, picked up the gift bag and placed it on the table. “Happy anniversary,” she whispered.
Ryan reached for her wrist. “Amara, please. Let’s talk somewhere else.”
She pulled away. “No. You’ve had three years to talk to me. Tonight, I finally understand why you never had time.”
She turned and walked away before he could see her tears fall. Behind her, Ryan called her name. Amara didn’t turn back.
Outside, the night air struck her face. She pressed one hand over her mouth, trying to contain the sobs rising from her chest.
She had imagined their third anniversary so differently. She had imagined laughter, promises and a future together. Instead, she had discovered that the man she loved had been building another relationship behind her back.
Her phone vibrated again. This time, it was Ryan: “Don’t make a scene. We need to talk.”
Amara stared at the message until the words blurred. Then she typed the sentence that ended three years of her life: “We’re done, Ryan. Don’t ever call me again.”
She blocked his number.
For several minutes, she stood alone beneath the streetlights, unsure where to go or how to stop hurting. Then she noticed a small bar across the road.
She had never been someone who drank to forget her problems. But tonight, she wanted the noise in her head to stop, even if only for a little while.
She crossed the road and entered.
She didn’t know that somewhere beyond the city, a powerful Alpha was about to feel the first stirrings of a bond that would change both their lives.
And she certainly didn’t know that by the time the sun rose, her broken heart would be the least of her problems.
To be continued…
