The scream that tore from my throat didn't sound human. Rebecca grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my skin as she tried to steady me.
"Lyric, maybe we should go," she whispered, but I couldn't move. Couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene in the pool.
Desmond pushed away from Mira, water cascading down his chest as he stumbled toward the edge. "Lyric, wait—"
"Don't touch me," I hissed, backing away. "Don't you dare touch me."
Mira's laughter floated across the water, light and musical. "Oh, Des, she's so dramatic." She stretched languidly, not bothering to cover herself. "We were just cooling off. It's been so hot today."
Rebecca stepped between us, her small frame somehow imposing. "You need to get dressed. Both of you."
I turned and ran upstairs, my vision blurring with tears. Behind me, I heard Desmond calling my name, his voice frantic.
In our bedroom—no, my bedroom now—I yanked open the closet doors. Mira's designer dresses hung neatly beside my clothes, her expensive shoes lined up on the floor. My hands trembled as I pulled open my nightstand drawer.
A diamond bracelet I'd never seen before gleamed against the wood. I lifted it, the metal cold against my fingers.
"Looking for something?" Mira's voice came from the doorway. She leaned against the frame, wrapped in my bathrobe.
"Get out," I whispered.
"Actually," she said, stepping inside, "I think you should get out. This is Desmond's house, after all."
I threw the bracelet at her. It hit her shoulder and fell to the floor. "You planned this. All of it."
Mira shrugged, picking up the bracelet and sliding it onto her wrist. "I just took what was rightfully mine."
Desmond appeared behind her, his hair still wet, wearing just his swim trunks. "Lyric, please. Let's talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You chose her. Over and over again."
"That's not true," he insisted, stepping into the room. "Mira was just comforting me because I was worried about your mental state."
"My mental state?" I laughed, the sound brittle. "After you let her put my mother's ashes in our food?"
"It was a misunderstanding," he said, running his hands through his hair. "She thought it would be a nice gesture."
Mira nodded sympathetically behind him. "I never meant to hurt you, Lyric."
I moved to the bed and yanked back the covers. The sheets were rumpled, and I could smell her perfume—expensive, cloying, nothing like my own.
"And this?" I demanded. "Was this a misunderstanding too?"
Desmond's face flushed red. "We were just talking."
"In my bed?" My voice rose. "While I was in the hospital?"
Mira's smile widened. She moved to the nightstand and picked up a folded note I hadn't noticed before. "Oh, I almost forgot." She handed it to me. "I left this for you."
The paper trembled in my hands as I unfolded it.
"Thanks for letting us use your bed," I read aloud, my voice hollow. "It's much more comfortable than Desmond's."
Something inside me snapped. I grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began throwing my clothes inside.
"You're leaving?" Desmond asked, his voice small.
"Yes," I said, not looking at him. "I'm leaving."
"Lyric, please." He moved toward me, but I stepped back.
"Don't touch me," I warned. "Don't ever touch me again."
"Fine," he said, his expression hardening. "But you need to know something." He took a deep breath. "Yes, I slept with Mira. But it wasn't what you think."
"Oh, really?" I zipped the suitcase closed. "What was it then?"
"Stress relief," he said quickly. "She was there for me when you were... difficult."
I stared at him, this stranger wearing my fiancé's face.
"And now?" I asked quietly.
"Now I want you to stay," he said, dropping to his knees. "I want us to get married, just like we planned."
Mira's face darkened behind him.
"The wedding will happen," he continued desperately. "But Mira has to be part of it. She's my oldest friend."
I looked at them both—Desmond on his knees, begging; Mira behind him, her eyes calculating even now.
"Your oldest friend," I repeated slowly. "Who you've been sleeping with behind my back."
"It was just sex," he insisted. "It didn't mean anything."
I picked up my suitcase and moved toward the door. "Neither does your proposal."
As I walked past Mira, her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "You can't just leave," she hissed. "We had a deal."
I yanked free of her grasp and kept walking, Desmond's pleas fading behind me as I headed for the door.
