Kingsman

"I Know I meant to say no

But he’s irresistible

Up close and personal

Now inescapable

I can hardly breathe

More than just physical

Deeper than spritual

His ways are powerful

And irresistible to me"

-Jessica Simpson

Freya sat on the edge of the bed, watching Lucas as he moved around their shared apartment, preparing for his business trip. Lucas is tall, with a lean, athletic build and sandy brown hair that was always effortlessly styled. His brown eyes had a warm, charming quality that made him seem sincere and trustworthy. He dressed well, exuding confidence and ease with every step, often wearing a fitted button-up or a leather jacket that added to his laid-back yet put-together look. His suitcase lay open on the floor, clothes neatly folded, his laptop bag resting against the wall. He looked calm, content, and Freya tried to ignore the faint unease that had been growing inside her for the past few weeks. Something had felt off, but she had pushed the thoughts away, convincing herself it was just her imagination.

But tonight, that gnawing feeling was too strong to ignore. As Lucas stepped into the shower, leaving his phone carelessly unlocked on the nightstand, the temptation was too much. Her heart raced as she picked it up, her hands trembling slightly as she scrolled through his messages. She didn’t know what she was expecting to find, but the moment her eyes landed on a string of intimate texts, her world came crashing down.

There it was, in black and white: messages from another woman. They weren’t just friendly or casual. They were explicit, intimate, and undeniably damning. Her stomach churned as she read the flirty exchanges, the hidden rendezvous, the secret confessions that tore at the very foundation of their relationship.

How long has this been going on? she wondered, her mind spinning as the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t just a mistake. It was a betrayal, one that had been ongoing for who knows how long.

Freya’s throat tightened, her chest heaving as she fought back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. But she needed proof. Before her shaking hands could drop the phone, she grabbed her own and snapped several photos of the incriminating texts. The evidence was now saved, immortalized in her phone’s gallery—a painful reminder of the man she thought she knew.

She barely had time to hide her phone and place his back on the nightstand when she heard the shower turn off. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to compose herself, forcing her breathing to slow. Stay calm, she told herself. Don’t let him see it.

Lucas stepped out of the bathroom moments later, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp. He smiled at her—the same smile he always gave her, as if nothing had changed, as if he wasn’t carrying the weight of a secret affair behind those warm eyes.

“Hey, babe, I’ll be heading out soon,” he said casually, reaching over to grab his clothes. Freya watched him, her heart heavy, her mind reeling with everything she had just discovered.

She forced a smile, her throat tightening with every word she was holding back. “Right. Good luck with your trip.”

Lucas leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly, his lips brushing against her skin as if he hadn’t just shattered her world.

Freya wanted to scream, to shove him away, to demand answers. But she stayed silent. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not in front of him. She had to stay strong. She bit her lip and nodded as he pulled back, grabbing his suitcase and heading for the door.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he said with a casual wave, disappearing down the hallway.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Freya’s legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, her body shaking as the sobs she had been holding in tore free. The pain hit her like a wave, crashing over her, pulling her under. She buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks as the reality of what had just happened settled in.

Five years. They had been together for five years, and in that time, she had given him everything. Her time, her loyalty, her heart. She had turned down guys who flirted with her, never entertained the thought of being with anyone else because she had believed Lucas was the one. She had been faithful through every rough patch, always willing to compromise, to make their relationship stronger.

But now, it felt like every moment of those five years had been nothing more than a lie. A carefully constructed façade that Lucas had been chipping away at behind her back, piece by piece. Every kiss, every promise he made to her, every time he said he loved her—it was all tainted now. Stained by the knowledge that he had been sharing himself with someone else.

Freya’s throat tightened further, and her chest ached with the weight of her emotions, but she refused to let herself cry any longer. Not for him. He didn’t deserve her tears.

With a surge of anger, she grabbed her phone and tried to blocked his number but her hand shook. The icy rage that had been simmering beneath the surface rose up, sharp and cold, as if the hurt she felt was too raw to let in any warmth. The betrayal was still fresh, cutting her deeper with each passing second. How stupid had she been to trust him so completely?

Before she could spiral further, her phone buzzed in her hand. A message from Sofia, her best friend.

“Hey, how’s everything? You okay?”

Freya stared at the screen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But she needed to tell someone. She needed to say it out loud.

Her fingers moved across the screen, typing out the words she hadn’t yet spoken aloud:

“He cheated on me.”

A beat passed before the reply came.

*”We’re going out tonight. No arguments. You need this.”

Freya stared at the message for a moment. Part of her wanted to stay home, to curl up in bed and let the darkness swallow her whole. But the other part of her—the part that was furious, the part that wanted to forget—needed this. She needed to stop thinking about Lucas. To stop feeling like a fool.

With a deep breath, she typed back a simple, “Fine,” and began to get ready.

A few hours later, Freya found herself squeezed into a tight black dress, surrounded by her closest friends at a high-end strip club called **The Red Lounge**. It wasn’t their usual scene, but tonight wasn’t about doing what was expected. It was about forgetting Lucas. Forgetting the pain. Forgetting how much she had loved him, and how he had destroyed that love with his lies.

“Freya, you look incredible,” Layla said, squeezing her hand as they stepped into the neon-lit club. “Lucas is a complete idiot for cheating on you. You’re a catch, and tonight, we’re going to remind you of that.”

Freya smiled weakly, appreciating her friends’ attempts to cheer her up, even though the ache in her chest remained stubbornly lodged in place. She couldn’t stop thinking about how blind she had been, how naive. How had she not seen the signs?

“I should have known,” Freya muttered as they settled into a booth near the bar. “I should’ve seen it. He always had some excuse, some reason why he couldn’t spend time with me. I was just… too in love to notice.”

“Freya, stop,” her other friend, Sofia, chimed in, shaking her head. “You were being a good girlfriend. You trusted him. That’s not something to feel guilty about. It’s *his* fault. He’s the one who cheated, not you.”

Layla nodded in agreement. “Exactly. You did nothing wrong. He’s just a lying piece of trash, and you’re better off without him.”

Freya bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal. It was all swirling inside her, a toxic cocktail she couldn’t quite shake. But she wasn’t going to let Lucas win. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her night.

The club was filled with the thumping beat of music and flashing neon lights. Dancers swayed on poles, and the crowd seemed lost in the intoxicating mix of drinks and debauchery. Freya tossed back her third drink, feeling the warmth of the alcohol buzz in her veins. Her inhibitions were loosening with every sip, and the icy rage in her chest started to thaw—if only a little.

“Forget that jerk,” Layla said, raising her glass. “Tonight is all about you!”

Freya laughed, her voice slightly slurred, and clinked her glass against her friends’. It felt good to laugh, even if it was just for a moment. She looked around at the crowd, the flashing lights, the dancers, the music—everything was so alive, so vibrant. For the first time all day, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could move on from this. That maybe Lucas wasn’t worth the heartbreak.

“Damn right it’s about you,” Sofia added, tossing back her own drink. “He’s a loser, Freya. And tonight, you’re going to show him you don’t need him.”

Freya smiled again, this time more genuinely. She had been so faithful, so devoted, but it had all been wasted on someone who didn’t deserve it. Maybe this night out, this reckless, wild night, was exactly what she needed. To let loose, to forget, and to reclaim a piece of herself that Lucas had taken.

As she downed another drink, she felt the room start to spin just a little, but she didn’t care. Her friends were cheering her on, the music was pounding, and for the first time since discovering Lucas’s betrayal, Freya felt something other than pain.

Maybe, just maybe, she could be free of him after all.