The morning after the engagement party arrived with a headache Maya didn't remember earning.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling of their apartment while memories replayed in uneven fragments—laughter, applause, Brandon's arm around her waist, Victoria's knowing smile. None of it was wrong enough to accuse, but none of it settled comfortably either. The feeling lingered like a faint bruise you only noticed when you pressed on it.
Brandon moved beside her, already awake. His phone buzzed once on the nightstand. He reached for it instantly.
Too instantly.
Maya turned onto her side. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Too much excitement," he said lightly, eyes still on the screen. "Worth it, though."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. The gesture was familiar, affectionate—but rushed. He was already pulling on his shirt.
"Early meeting," he added. "I'll make it up to you tonight."
She nodded, because that was what supportive fiancées did.
After he left, the apartment felt unusually quiet. Maya showered, dressed, moved through her routine on autopilot, but her mind kept circling the same moments. Brandon's voice on the balcony. Victoria's laughter. The way they'd both said perfect.
At Zenith Communications, she buried herself in work. Spreadsheets, strategy decks, campaign metrics—numbers behaved. They didn't lie. By noon, she'd almost convinced herself she was imagining things.
Almost.
Her phone buzzed.
Brandon: Running late. Dinner rain check?
She stared at the message longer than necessary before replying.
Of course. Good luck with the meeting.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Brandon: Thanks, love.
Love.
She exhaled slowly.
Victoria stopped by her desk later that afternoon, perching casually on the edge like she owned the place. "You survived the party."
"Barely," Maya joked.
Victoria laughed. "You were stunning, by the way. Everyone noticed."
Maya smiled, then hesitated. "Did you… have fun?"
Victoria tilted her head. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason," Maya said quickly. "I just—"
Her phone buzzed again. Brandon, calling this time.
"Go ahead," Victoria said smoothly. "I'll grab coffee."
Maya answered. "Hey."
"Change of plans," Brandon said. "I need to fly out tonight. Sapphirevale. Back tomorrow."
"Oh." Disappointment flickered before she could stop it. "Okay."
"You sound upset."
"No, just surprised."
"I'm doing this for us," he said gently. "You know that."
She did. She always had.
"Call me when you land," she said.
"I will."
The call ended. Maya stared at the dark screen, the familiar ache of absence settling in her chest.
Victoria returned with two coffees. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. He's traveling."
Victoria's lips curved into a knowing smile. "That's Brandon. Always moving."
That evening, alone in the apartment, Maya wandered into the bedroom and began tidying—something she did when she needed control. She straightened the bed, folded laundry, lined up shoes.
Brandon's phone lay on the dresser.
She froze.
She wasn't the kind of woman who snooped. Trust was foundational. Essential. Without it, what was the point?
The phone buzzed.
A message preview lit up the screen.
V: You promised. Don't make me wait again.
Maya's breath caught.
Her heart pounded as if she'd sprinted up a flight of stairs. Her mind raced to explanations—business, misunderstanding, coincidence. Victoria had messaged him before. About party details. About gifts.
She reached for the phone, hand trembling.
The screen locked.
She stood there for a long moment, the silence roaring in her ears. Then she set the phone back exactly where it had been.
You're overreacting, she told herself. You don't spy on people you love.
But sleep didn't come easily that night.Sapphirevale glittered under the afternoon sun when Brandon landed. He moved through the airport with practiced confidence, phone already in hand.
V: Penthouse. Now.
He didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
Two days passed.
Brandon returned with apologies and expensive takeout. Maya accepted both. She laughed when she was supposed to. She kissed him back. But the unease had roots now, and it was growing.
At a charity gala the following week, she noticed him again—standing too close to Victoria, voices low, bodies angled inward. She caught fragments as she passed.
"…can't keep doing this," Brandon muttered.
Victoria's reply was soft, sharp. "Then stop lying to her."
Maya stopped walking.
Brandon glanced up and saw her. His expression shifted instantly—concern, warmth, devotion sliding into place like a mask he'd worn for years.
"There you are," he said, stepping away from Victoria. "I was just saying how beautiful you look tonight."
Victoria smiled, serene. "You really do."
Maya smiled back.
She didn't know when the doubt turned into certainty.
Only that, deep down, something had already broken.
And somewhere far beyond Cristalvale's glittering skyline, a future unlike anything she could imagine was slowly, silently drawing closer.