Dahlia's POV
The soft knock comes again, more insistent this time.
Cobb strides to the door and yanks it open. Ivana stands there, tears streaming down her face, clutching a tissue to her chest.
"Cobb, I'm so sorry," she sobs. "I never meant to cause problems between you and Dahlia."
She looks past him to me, her eyes wide and glistening. "Dahlia, please forgive me. I was being selfish. I was scared of losing the only family I have left."
The performance is flawless. The trembling voice, the perfect tears, the way she makes herself look small and helpless.
"I'm moving out," she continues. "I found a place across town. You two deserve to start fresh without me interfering."
Cobb's face softens immediately. "Rose, you don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." She steps into the apartment, uninvited. "Dahlia was right. I've been coming between you two."
I watch her carefully, looking for cracks in the facade. There's something too polished about this confession, too perfectly timed.
"You have been coming between us," I say quietly.
Ivana flinches as if I've slapped her. "I know. And I'm so ashamed. I just... when I think about being alone, I panic. But that's no excuse for what I've done."
"What exactly have you done, Ivana?"
Her eyes dart to Cobb, then back to me. "I've been selfish with Cobb's time. I've made you feel like you don't matter. I've—"
"You've been manipulating him since day one."
The words cut through the air like a blade. Ivana's face crumples, but for just a second, I catch something else. A flash of anger quickly hidden behind more tears.
"That's not fair," Cobb snaps, stepping between us. "She's trying to apologize."
"She's putting on a show."
"Dahlia, stop." Cobb's voice carries a warning. "Can't you see how upset she is?"
I look at Ivana, who's now sobbing into her hands. But I notice how she peeks at Cobb through her fingers, making sure he's watching her performance.
"I see exactly what she's doing."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means she's not sorry. She's just sorry she got caught."
Cobb's face flushes red. "You're being cruel. She's trying to make things right."
"By crying? By playing the victim? That's all she's ever done."
"That's enough!" Cobb's voice booms through the apartment.
Ivana looks up, her face streaked with tears. "Please don't fight because of me. I can't bear it."
"See?" Cobb turns to me. "You're making her feel worse."
"Good. Maybe she should feel worse."
The words are barely out of my mouth when Cobb's hand flies across my face.
The slap echoes through the apartment like a gunshot. Pain explodes across my cheek, and I stumble backward, my hand flying to my face.
For a moment, everything is silent except for the ringing in my ears.
Then I see it.
Ivana's expression has changed completely. The tears are still there, but behind them is something cold and satisfied. A tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth before she quickly composes herself.
She got what she wanted. Cobb chose her. Again.
"How dare you," Cobb snarls, his hand still raised. "How dare you attack her when she's trying to help."
I touch my burning cheek, tasting blood where my teeth cut my lip. Six years of relationship, and it comes to this. Him hitting me to defend her.
"We're done," I say quietly.
"What?"
"We're done, Cobb. Forever."
I walk to my suitcase and pick it up. My face throbs, but my mind is crystal clear for the first time in years.
"You don't mean that," Cobb says, but there's uncertainty in his voice now.
"I've never meant anything more."
"Dahlia, please," Ivana speaks up, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Don't let my mistakes ruin what you two have."
I turn to look at her. The fake tears, the concerned expression, the way she's positioned herself next to Cobb like she belongs there.
"You're right," I say. "I shouldn't let your mistakes ruin anything else."
I head for the door, suitcase in hand.
"Where are you going?" Cobb demands.
"Away from you. Away from this."
"You'll be back," he calls after me. "You always come back."
I don't look back. I don't say anything. I just walk out the door and don't stop until I'm outside.
The taxi ride to the airport passes in a blur. I sit in the back seat, my cheek still stinging, and pull out my phone.
My hands shake as I open Instagram. I need to do this now, before I lose my nerve.
I type quickly:
"After six years together, Cobb Zaid and I have officially ended our relationship. I've tolerated manipulation, emotional abuse, and today, physical violence. No one should accept being treated as second choice. I'm choosing myself. #NoMore #MovingOn"
I attach a photo from our last vacation, where we look happy. Where I thought we were happy.
Then I hesitate. Should I really do this? Make our breakup public?
My cheek throbs, reminding me of Cobb's hand across my face. Of the satisfied look in Ivana's eyes.
I hit post.
At the airport, I buy a ticket on the first flight out.
The plane is half empty. I find a window seat and collapse into it, emotionally drained.
As we take off, I finally let myself cry. Not for Cobb – I'm done crying for him. For the six years I wasted. For the woman I let myself become. For thinking I deserved so little.
I must fall asleep somewhere over the clouds, because the next thing I know, someone is gently shaking my shoulder.
"Miss?"
I open my eyes to find a flight attendant looking at me with concern.
"You were crying in your sleep," she says softly. "Are you alright?"
I touch my face and feel the wetness on my cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. Can I get you anything?"
Before I can answer, a hand appears in my peripheral vision, offering a crisp white handkerchief.
"Thank you," I murmur, taking it without looking up.
The fabric is expensive, monogrammed with elegant initials. It smells like cedar and something sophisticated.
I wipe my eyes and finally look up to thank the stranger.
My blood turns to ice.
Sitting beside me in an impeccably tailored suit is Soren Zaid.
"Uncle Soren?" The words slip out before I can stop them. "What are you doing here?"
His dark eyes study me with unsettling intensity. There's something predatory in his gaze that makes my skin crawl.
"Didn't you break up with Cobb?" he asks, his voice smooth as silk. "Why do you still call me uncle?"