[Keiran, let’s break up.]
Claudette Williams’s message hung in the air, heavy and unacknowledged, like the cold dishes on the table before her. No matter how many times they were reheated, the taste was long gone.
She glanced at the clock; midnight had come and gone. With a sigh, she rose, sweeping the untouched food into the trash.
Just as Claudette finished tidying up, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the door.
When Keiran Harris finally entered and saw her still sitting in the dimly lit living room, he stopped, surprised. "Why aren’t you asleep yet?"
As always, the first thing he did was reach out, pulling her into his arms. "You said you’d be back for dinner, so I made a whole table of food waiting for you!"
A faint smile traced Claudette's lips as she spoke, calm as ever, though a subtle distance lingered in her gaze, a new, unspoken wall between them.
Keiran wrapped her in his arms, his apologies pouring out in a flurry. "It’s all my fault. Go ahead, punish me if that’ll help. Tonight’s client was crucial, a last-minute meeting I couldn’t turn down. I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Look, I even brought you a gift, Love’s latest masterpiece, crafted just for you."
Claudette didn’t turn down Keiran's gift; after all, she could sell it for cash once she left. Yet her expression was different now, missing its usual warmth.
She couldn’t quite place when Keiran had become so adept at lying, his words flowing without a single hesitation. His “important client” was nothing more than that fresh-faced intern he’d recently hired with suspicious enthusiasm.
“Oh, really?” she replied, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Your client must be quite inconsiderate, choosing tonight of all nights to meet with you, almost as if to spite me.”
Keiran didn’t skip a beat. “Exactly, ruining my date with you. Next time, I’ll file a complaint with their boss!”
Claudette watched Keiran’s face, searching for any flicker of guilt, but there was none. Either he’d perfected the art of hiding his emotions in his high-powered position, or he was simply a master of deceit.
“Alright, I’ll take a shower first, then I’ll come to bed with my darling,” he murmured, giving her a suggestive grin.
Claudette smiled, giving a small wave to send him off. But as his back turned, her smile faded, vanishing into the silence of the room.
There was a time when hearing Keiran call her "darling" would have wrapped her heart in warmth. She used to melt at the way he’d say “Claude” in that deep, irresistible voice of his. But now, the very sound of it churned her stomach.
The moment Keiran stepped into the shower, Claudette slipped her hand into his coat pocket, pulling out his other phone.
She’d told herself she wouldn’t look, but the temptation was too strong. Her fingers betrayed her, opening the chat with his pinned contact, his so-called “beloved.”
[Do you like it?]
The words lingered, paired with a seductive photo of Corinne Clark, young, stunning, and radiating a vibrancy that made Claudette’s twenty-eight-year-old self feel like a distant shadow.
[My little temptress, always finding new ways to drive me wild.]
[If I didn’t, you’d just run back to that old woman.]
[Corinne, watch your mouth.]
Should Claudette have felt relieved that she still held a place in Keiran’s mind? Or did that thought only deepen the ache?
[It doesn’t matter. You’re mine—now and always.]
[Yes, yes, my queen. Just for you, all yours.]
Reading Keiran’s tender words felt like a dagger twisting in Claudette’s chest.
