01. Love is a lie.
Years of studying the human mind had taught me how to recognise grief, anxiety, and loneliness in strangers. Yet somehow, I had never noticed the woman slowly disappearing in my own reflection.
Love was something I had always witnessed, but never truly experienced.
I had what anyone would call an "amazing" boyfriend. A loving family. A successful career. From the outside, my life appeared complete, yet beneath the carefully crafted façade, I felt nothing but an aching emptiness.
It was as though no one had ever cared enough to understand me—to look beyond the smile I wore so effortlessly and see the person quietly falling apart.
"Missy."
I barely registered my name, my pen continuing to glide across the pages of my journal as my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"Missy!"
A heavy thud against my desk jolted me back to reality. My eyes darted to the pair of broad hands resting on the smooth sandalwood surface before slowly lifting to meet the impatient gaze of my boss, Dean. His brows were knitted together in concern... or perhaps irritation.
"Y-Yes?" I stammered, quickly closing my journal.
"Have you finished the report on the child diagnosed with severe schizophrenia?" Dean asked, his tone clipped as he glanced down at the watch around his wrist.
Panic fluttered in my chest.
I hurriedly sifted through the stack of papers scattered across my desk, nearly knocking over the mug of coffee balanced precariously beside them.
"Yes... just one moment," I murmured.
I could feel Dean's gaze fixed on me—a silent reminder that he wasn't fond of delays.
After a few frantic seconds, relief washed over me as I found the report.
"Here it is." I offered him the file with a small, apologetic smile.
Dean accepted the papers without a word, carefully scanning each page. His stern expression softened ever so slightly before he gave a brief nod of approval.
Without another glance, he turned to leave my office. Just as he reached the doorway, he paused.
"Don't stay too long," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "It's getting dark outside."
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
The office gradually fell silent once more.
I let out a weary sigh as I gathered my belongings. By the time I stepped outside, the evening sky had been painted in soft shades of amber and violet, the last rays of sunlight disappearing beyond the city's skyline.
As I wandered down the familiar streets, a small sushi restaurant caught my eye.
Maybe I should pick up dinner for Malcolm.
A smile tugged at my lips.
I had stayed late at the hospital again, and I knew full well that man couldn't cook to save his life. The thought made me chuckle. Perhaps this would also be the perfect opportunity to apologise for the argument we'd had the night before.
I stepped inside the restaurant and ordered his favourite—salmon sushi with chicken fried rice.
Predictable, I thought with an amused shake of my head. But he loves it.
.....
By the time I reached our apartment complex, the building had fallen into an eerie silence. Most of the residents had already gone to bed.
I pressed the lift button, and within seconds, the doors slid open.
Stepping inside, I pulled out my phone and checked the time.
12:37 a.m.
"No wonder everyone's asleep," I murmured to myself.
The lift chimed, announcing my floor.
I stepped out, still humming absent-mindedly to the faint commercial tune playing through the speakers. The corridor stretched before me, quiet and familiar.
I reached my apartment door and wrapped my fingers around the handle.
Then I stopped.
A faint sound drifted through the door.
Moaning.
My smile faltered.
...Moaning?
I stood there for a moment, frozen in disbelief. My mind searched desperately for another explanation—anything that made more sense than the one slowly creeping into my thoughts.
Without another second of hesitation, I shoved the door open. It slammed violently against the wall.
The paper bag slipped from my grasp.
It hit the floor with a dull thud, scattering containers of salmon sushi and fried rice across the hardwood.
My gaze shot towards the living room.
And then...
Everything stopped.
There was Malcolm.
My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach.
The warmth drained from my body, leaving me rooted to the spot.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't even look away.
The man I had loved for two years.
The man I had trusted with every broken piece of myself.
The man who had made me believe I would never be enough.
He hadn't even realised I'd caught him.
That fucking bastard.
My heart pounded violently against my ribs, each beat louder than the last. A bitter taste coated my tongue as nausea twisted in the pit of my stomach.
I took a hesitant step forward, my brows knitting together as if my mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
No...
I blinked once.
Twice.
Hoping—praying—that if I looked again, the scene before me would somehow be different.
My boyfriend was fucking another woman, while I was out earning money to pay the damn bills.
"Lift your legs up for me" He grunts roughly as he pounded into a woman that didnt look conscious. Moans and crys continued to echo through the room while I stood at the step like a fool.
.....
"Malcolm."
He finally looked at me.
His eyes widened for the briefest moment before settling into a look of pure annoyance.
"The fuck are you doing here?"
I stared at him, unable to believe the words I'd just heard.
"What am I doing here?" My voice trembled. "I come home and find this... and that's your first question?"
Without a hint of concern, he turned away from me. The woman beside him looked dazed, barely reacting as he roughly brushed past her to stand.
He didn't even spare her a second glance.
He only looked at me.
Then he laughed.
A slow, mocking laugh that echoed through the apartment.
"I didn't think you were this stupid."
The words landed like a slap.
His eyes drifted to the takeaway scattered across the floor.
"...Is that my dinner?"
For a moment, I could only stare.
"I've just caught you cheating," I whispered, my voice cracking. "And you're asking about dinner?"
He walked towards me with slow, deliberate steps until there was barely any space between us.
His expression remained frighteningly calm.
"I asked you a question."
I swallowed hard, refusing to look away.
"...Yes."
Something shifted in his expression.
The room exploded into chaos.
Furniture scraped violently across the floor. Voices rose. My pulse hammered so loudly that I could barely hear anything else.
In that moment, I realised the man standing in front of me wasn't the person I'd fallen in love with.
Maybe he never had been.
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