2
GEORGIA'S POV
My pulse slowed to a heavy, agonizing thud, and the world seemed to slip into a frozen vacuum. Or maybe I was the only thing that had stopped moving.
Jaime, whose smile used to feel like the sunrise...
Jaime, who looked at me as if I were the only woman on earth...
Jaime, who had been counting down the seconds until our wedding.
Jaime, the man who watched cheesy old movies with me and recited every cliché line because he knew they made me happy.
Jaime, who had promised me his entire life.
That same Jaime was right there on the bed, breathless and slick with sweat, right in front of my eyes.
The woman's hair was a curtain over her face as she continued to make those soft, rhythmic sounds. It wasn't until I stumbled backward, my heel clicking against the floor, that the world shattered.
Jaime shoved her away with a panicked jolt. She tumbled off the mattress and scrambled for the floor, desperately dragging the silk sheets down to cover her nakedness.
My heart felt like it was going to rupture in my chest with every beat. I tried to pull in a breath, but my lungs felt like they were collapsing, and I couldn't stop the scalding tears from welling up.
"Georgia," he choked out, his voice cracking. I looked down at the floor, seeing their clothes tangled and discarded in heaps.
It had been a night of raw passion for him. Meanwhile, I had spent my entire evening poured into making his favorite meal, thinking only of how much I loved him.
"I hate you," I whispered. My voice was a broken thread.
I spun around and bolted from the room. My skin was prickling with a sick, electric shock. Jaime... Jaime... is this a nightmare? My Jaime? The one who belonged only to me?
"Georgia! Georgia, wait! I'm sorry—please!" he shouted after me. I could hear his bare feet hitting the floor as he chased me.
I didn't look back. I snatched my bag from the table and threw myself out the front door. He couldn't follow me onto the street without a stitch of clothing on, and by the time he got dressed, I'd be a ghost.
I sprinted toward the main road, heart racing, and frantically waved down the first taxi I saw.
I used to get so annoyed at the girls in movies who just ran away when they caught their boyfriends cheating. I'd yell at the screen, telling them to scream, to pull hair, to fight back. But standing there, watching Jaime... the world didn't just break; it ended. Everything felt tight and suffocating. I just needed to get away before I completely lost my mind.
For the first time, I finally understood the flight response. I couldn't look at that horror for another second without shattering into a million pieces.
"Where to, Miss?" the driver asked as I scrambled into the back seat.
"Anywhere. Just drive," I choked out. "I'll pay you triple. Just... please, keep moving."
The tears finally broke, flooding my lap. My chest felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. How could the person I loved most do this? Did he ever love me at all? When did the lies start? Was it before we started wedding planning? After? Where did I lose him?
The driver saw my face in the rearview mirror and, mercifully, didn't say a word. He just drove.
I tried to wipe the tears away, but they were a relentless tide. My throat felt like it was closing up, and I had to let out a sob just to be able to breathe again. It was humiliating to break down like this in front of a stranger, but I had invested everything I was into Jaime. The thought of the pure, innocent love I'd given him being mocked by that woman in his bed was too much to bear.
I sobbed until I was gasping for air, a sharp headache blooming behind my eyes. I had given him my soul, and he had handed me a betrayal.
After nearly two hours of aimless driving, the tears finally ran dry. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting the night air rush in and whip my hair back.
Those hands—the ones that used to cup my face so tenderly—had been holding her. Those eyes that looked at me with such "love" had looked at her with nothing but lust.
"Sir," I said quietly.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"I'll get out here." I pulled every bill I had out of my wallet. It was more than a driver would make in a week, but I was grateful for the silence and the escape.
"No, this is too much, you don't have to—"
"Please," I insisted, pressing the cash into his hand. "Thank you."
I stepped out onto the sidewalk and started walking. I had no idea where I was, and I was miles from home, but I didn't care. The images of the bedroom were still looping in my mind, and I wished I could just reach into my brain and tear the memories out.
I stopped and took a shaky breath, my eyes landing on the neon sign of a bar. It was exactly what I needed. People drank to forget, right? I needed to stop feeling.
The bar was mostly empty, save for a single shadow of a person sitting in the far corner. The bartender looked up, offering a professional smile.
"Welcome," he called out as I slid onto a stool at the mahogany counter. "I thought we were done for the night. You looking for a room, too? We've got the hotel upstairs."
I looked back at the door, only then realizing it was an inn. "Um..."
"What can I get you?"
"Whatever has the most alcohol in it," I replied.
"Rough night? I'd go easy on the heavy stuff if I were you," he said, though his tone was light as he began mixing.
"If you were me, you'd be asking for the whole bottle," I countered.
He smiled, sliding a cocktail toward me. "What's the story? Sometimes it's easier to tell a stranger. I don't know you, I don't know your friends. You can say whatever you want and walk out that door a ghost."
"You're right," I muttered, taking a sip. "Even if I scream about what a dog he is, you won't tell him. You'll probably think I'm pathetic, but I'll never see you again anyway."
"I doubt you're pathetic. So, it's a man then?"
"Is it that obvious? Yes. A man. A... god, I can't even find the words to curse him properly." I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.
"He cheated?"
I looked at him, and I knew I looked like a wounded animal. He didn't make me say it. He just nodded and stepped back.
I didn't say another word; I just downed the glass in one go. He poured another, and I drank that, too, desperate for the burn to numb the ache in my chest.
"He... I never would have guessed..." I reached across and took the bottle, drinking straight from it as my vision started to blur.
"Easy there," he said, coming around from behind the bar as I swayed. "I think you've had enough."
"No! I want to kill him! I want to kill Jaime!" I wailed, the alcohol finally hitting my system.
"You're drunk. You need to sleep it off," he said, pulling me to my feet.
"Is this it? Is this being drunk? It's not enough!" I staggered, my legs feeling like lead.
"Come on," he muttered, guiding me toward a dark staircase lit by a dim blue bulb.
I tried to find my footing, but he stepped up close behind me, his arms wrapping around me to keep me steady. He was too close—way too close. My eyes flew open, the fog of the drinks clearing for a split second as I felt his touch.
His hands weren't on my waist. He had shifted them, pressing them firmly against my chest.