Heat surges through me—not from heartbreak, but from sheer rage. We’re literally on our date, and he’s over there smacking his lips with some cheap-looking blonde wearing a red dress. I look closer and see it is the woman who was staring at me from the moment we walked into the restaurant.
“Don’t stop on my account.” I do my best to keep my voice steady.
His head turns around, his eyes widening as he registers my presence. Panic flicks across his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I put my hand on my sternum theatrically. “Did I ruin your moment?”
“Taylor…”
“What are you going to say? That it’s not what it looks like? Let me guess—you saw her falling, rushed to help, and somehow your lips just happened to smash together. Please. Do you take me for a fool?” I let out a snort as I walk away.
Before I can take another step, a hand wraps around my arm.
“Wait—”
“Don’t touch me!” I yell, yanking my arm free with enough force to send Elliot stumbling backward.
He loses his balance just as a waitress exits the kitchen nearby and steps into his path, a tray of wine glasses teetering in her hands. She gasps and tries to sidestep, but it’s too late—he collides with her, sending the tray tipping. A cascade of red wine spills over him as the glasses tumble, shattering on the floor with a sharp, splintering crash.
A collective gasp ripples through the restaurant, and the air is thick with shock and the scent of wine. Elliot sits there, drenched, blinking in stunned silence.
That bitch in the red dress rushes to his side. Her eyes are filled with concern as she gently tries to help him rise. Elliot yanks his arms away from her grasp.
“Who exactly are you?” I ask her.
“I’m his coworker and the woman who’s been sleeping with him for the past few days.” I hear no remorse in her voice.
Past few days?
That scumbag!
“Clara!” Elliot snaps at her.
“You both deserve each other,” I add, bitterness lacing my words like poison.
“Taylor!” Elliot’s voice cuts through the noise.
I don’t acknowledge him. I snatch my coat and purse. As I make my escape, I open up the Uber app and request a ride.
Outside, the chill of the night air wraps around me. I hear footsteps running toward me.
“Taylor, please let me explain,” Elliot huffs from the effort of running as he tries to get me to stop walking away.
No way. I’m not sticking around to hear Elliot’s pathetic excuses. I keep my gaze fixed ahead, ignoring him.
“Taylor, please. I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I retort.
“Elliot, there you are.” Clara saunters up to us. “Well, now that the pathetic thing knows, we can finally be together out in the open.”
I can feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, but I refuse to let them. I take a deep breath, determined to keep my composure.
Elliot turns to Clara and asks her to leave. They start bickering, and just in time, I spot my Uber pulling up.
Neither of them notices as I slip into the car.
All I want is to get home. A single tear escapes, trailing down my cheek as I fight to hold the rest back. The driver doesn’t seem fazed. I guess he’s seen it all before.
I stand in front of my apartment, keys in hand, staring at the door like it holds all the answers. My fingers tighten around the cold metal, but I don’t move.
I don’t want to go in.
The moment I step inside, I’ll be alone—with my thoughts, my humiliation, and the crushing weight of everything that just happened. And something tells me Elliot will be here soon, desperate to explain, as if words could erase what I saw.
I can’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
A sharp ache blooms in my chest, spreading like wildfire. I press my lips together, willing myself not to cry. My entire relationship, my trust—gone in an instant. And the worst part? He didn’t even look sorry. Whoever Clara is certainly wasn’t sorry either.
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling shakily. I need somewhere to go, somewhere Elliot would never think to look.
Then, a crazy idea pops into my head.
I know I’ll regret this. But right now, it’s my only option.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my feet carry me down next door. I hesitate for only a second before knocking on Owen’s door.
Panic grips me, and I start to turn away—just as the door swings open.
