Chapter 1
The surroundings of the luxury hotel’s bathroom amplified the echoes of my desperate cries. Tears streamed down my face, mirroring the shattered dreams that lay strewn around us. I clung to Luke Frost’s shirt collar, my grip tight and desperate, as if holding onto him could somehow prevent the impending collapse of our perfect world.
“Luke, please,” I begged, my voice trembling with disbelief. “We looked perfect together, and we had everything planned. How can you just throw it all away?” Each word was a plea for reason, a plea for him to see the love we once shared.
His voice, however, cut through the air like a bitter wind. “Bella, I can’t do this anymore.” With a swift motion, he extricated himself from my grasp, leaving me clinging to empty air. The sudden loss felt like a physical blow, the pain radiating through my chest.
As I pleaded again, my voice echoed in the luxurious bathroom. “But Luke, I love you! I will die without you. Just think before you end it all? Think about me.” Words came out desperate.
In response, Luke remained cold and unyielding. With a dismissive gesture, he pushed me away, and I stumbled backward, colliding with the unforgiving surface of the bathroom stall. The impact jarred my senses, leaving me disoriented and vulnerable.
“Why, Luke? Why are you doing this? Sleep over it and then decide. I won’t mind. I am serious .” I gasped, clutching my throbbing side, the pain a tangible reminder of the unraveling of our love. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for an explanation, for a chance to salvage what remained of us.
But Luke’s gaze remained distant, detached. “It’s over, Bella. We can’t be together anymore. Are you blind? Did you not see that downstairs?” His words hung in the air, a final verdict that left me grasping for any semblance of hope.
As I crumpled to the cold bathroom floor, the tears mingling with the pain etched across my face, I couldn’t fathom how our love had unraveled so quickly. “I saw you, Okay! I saw you.” I sobbed, my voice barely audible through the anguish. “I saw you kissing that blond bitch, but I can forget it. We can start over, Luke. Please, just give us another chance. For God’s sake just try to think of it.”
For a moment, uncertainty flickered in Luke’s eyes, a brief glimmer of hesitation. Yet, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same cold resolve. “No, Bella. I am done and just get out of here,” he stated firmly, severing the last threads of hope that clung to my heart.
Luke turned away, his attention diverted to the polished mirror. The smug satisfaction on his face as he fixed his shirt and suit sent a chill down my spine. “I feel free now, and now I can start over but with someone else. By the way, you were such a poor fu*k, ” he declared with a smirk, reveling in the prospect of hunting for new conquests.
The room felt colder, the warmth we once shared replaced by his newfound liberation.
Just as he was about to exit, a sudden recollection halted his departure. He pivoted back, and in a twisted moment of curiosity, he asked, “Do you think you loved me?”
Hope surged within me, and I struggled to stand. “Yes, I always did. Despite the multiple breakups we had, I was there for you. You went on a date with other girls behind my back, and I forgave you every time. I’m willing to forgive you again.”
Luke’s laughter sliced through the air, a cruel symphony of mockery. “No, Bella. It’s not love. Let me make it crystal clear. You aren’t Mother Teresa who forgives and forgets. You’re desperate. That’s all. Desperate to be with someone rich. That’s why you were with me. You, Bella Smith, are just one desperate girl. And this ends here. You never loved me. I never loved you. You were only with me because you felt satisfied monetarily and I didn’t have time to put up with a girlfriend. And darling you have always been an easygoing girl ready to get naked with a flash of my card in the air. ”
Tears welled up again as his words pierced through me. I clung to the shreds of my self-esteem, refusing to accept his damning judgment. “No, Luke, you’re wrong. I genuinely loved you. It wasn’t the money. Check your card I haven’t spent any money from you in months.”
His laughter intensified, a mocking crescendo. “You’re so desperate, Bella. It’s pathetic. You are just not accepting.Between us, it’s you who needs to sleep over it and see for yourself how desperate you will actually feel without my money. ” The harsh reality of his words sank in, and I felt the weight of his contempt crushing what remained of my hope.
As Luke turned away, my frustration boiled over. “I never spent your money, never asked for expensive gifts, or got you into any trouble! And keeping your card in my purse doesn’t make me desperate. I always cared for you and made you dinner every night. You scolded me every other day but I always understood that you were burdened with work. I was there for you. You had my shoulder all the time and this isn’t anything compared to your money.” I shouted at his retreating figure. The walls of the luxury bathroom heard my roars, each syllable carrying the weight of my wounded pride. “How dare you call me desperate?”
I fought to reclaim my dignity, to stand firm in the face of his dismissive arrogance. “Your money wasn’t the reason, Luke. It was love!” The words spilled from my lips, a fervent defense against his hurtful accusations. At that moment, I refused to let him tarnish the sincerity of the emotions I believed had once bound us together.
“Yes. Exactly.” Luke’s confirmation echoed in my ears, a bitter acknowledgment that I hadn’t spent his money. But his words cut deeper as he reminded me, “Yes, you never spent my money,” he admitted coldly. “But let’s not pretend, Bella. You walk into those fancy malls, and you only find joy in knowing that you can buy anything, secure a future, and possess whatever you desire. You are a shallow person. You have no taste, no class, nothing that would ever attract a man. And personally, if I wanted to have a warm dinner cooked by other than my chef I would go to my mother, not you. Bloody Hell” His words pierced through me, exposing the facets of my character that he deemed shallow and materialistic.
“You get jealous when others have expensive things, wanting the satisfaction that you can afford what they have, That’s it!” he accused, the intensity of his words escalating. “You had that satisfaction with my card in your purse, but from now on, you’ll be desperate. It’s simple.”
“Now go home and do not create a scene in here. I’m here for business, and you need to get out with your shallow heart and empty purse,” he concluded with a dismissive tone, leaving me standing there, wounded and branded as someone he deemed unworthy. The weight of his judgment pressed upon me, and I felt the intensity of his words carving into my sense of self.
Doubt crept in like a persistent shadow, and I couldn’t help but question myself. Am I truly a shallow person at heart?
Luke’s fading footsteps echoed like the receding beats of my life. Determined to stand, I braced myself against the bathroom wall, attempting to find strength within the crumbling pieces of my world. But then, his steps reversed, and hope flickered within me as he approached.
My heart leaped at the unexpected turn, but instead of words of solace, Luke’s presence turned menacing. He leaned close, his scent invading my senses, and whispered, “I’ll do the last deed for you.”
A marker appeared in his hand, and with a cruel flourish, he wrote something on the bathroom wall. Laughter escaped his lips as he revealed his masterpiece. “Look,” he taunted, “Hi this is Bella. I’m desperate. Please give me a call. Isn’t that just perfect? Oh, and double-check if the number is correct. I’m sure some other desperate soul will give you a call.”
My heart sank as I read what he wrote. He had written my phone number and my name for some other desperate soul. The cruel joke played out on the cold, marble walls of the bathroom stall, leaving me exposed and humiliated. As Luke’s laughter lingered.
The bathroom wall became an unwelcome canvas, etched with the digits of my torment. My eyes remained fixed, compelled by some unseen force, to the cruel joke Luke had left behind. I read my number repeatedly.
The words above my number became an incessant reminder of a heartbroken girl whose pain had been weaponized against her.
Note
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