love by choice

This is the start of an insane amount of new romances - the betrayal of a past lover. And while this author condones repetition, she does love her tropes.

Inaya stood on the pavement with her hands clutching her phone. She had been standing there for about 30 minutes. Unmoving. Unflinching. Utterly Devastated.

The screen in her trembling hands held a message from her good work friend: “I was contemplating whether I should send this to you, but...yeah, you should see this, I know it's gonna suck, I'm sorry I couldn't do more girl.”

Then, the video.

Her fiancé of three years, lounging in a dimly lit strip club. A girl—young, practically draped over him—laughing, whispering something into his ear. His hands, too familiar, too comfortable, rested on her bare waist and his lips danced between her cleavage and neck.

Maybe, to some, this wasn’t cheating. But Inaya knew better. He knew better. Their boundaries had been clear from the start. This arrangement, this almost marriage, was built on trust. She thought even if they weren't in love from the beginning, it would happen eventually.

Hell, he’d been growing on her—bit by bit, month by month—with his quiet efforts, his careful gestures. She had started to believe in him, in them, that maybe her future was secured, maybe she wouldn't have to waste time searching for someone new when this match was comfortably set for her.

Her parents had never forced her into this—she was the one who had asked them to set her up. At the time, love and marriage felt like luxuries she couldn’t afford to think about, not with everything else on her plate. And yet, a part of her had wanted it anyway. A stable marriage. A home. The kind of life and family she had grown up with.

Now?

Now, she wasn’t sure what to do. Call it off? Was that too dramatic? They knew each other way before they were engaged. They were the kind of friends who asked each other if they were alive every once in a while.

Self-respect over everything, she thought. Inaya exhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and started walking. The streetlights flickered above her, casting long shadows as she made her way to the one place she had never wanted to visit—her soon-to-be ex-fiancé’s shady excuse for an apartment.

She used to worry about him living here. Thought it was too unsafe. Now? Who gives an actual fuck. She decided that if she found any drugs or alcohol there, she would snap a picture and send it straight to his mother. Even though she liked her mother-in-law-to-be, she needed to see if her precious son was in trouble.

While Inaya wrestled with the betrayal unfolding before her, let this author take a brief detour—to a past that shaped her.

Inaya’s childhood had not been unkind, but it had been lonely. Not for lack of love, but for lack of time. Born into a lower-middle-class family in a city that thrived on wealth, she had learned early on that survival demanded sacrifice. Her parents adored her, but adoration didn’t pay the bills. Their love came in the form of long hours, back-to-back shifts, and exhaustion-laced smiles at the dinner table.

They worked tirelessly—her mother balancing two demanding jobs, her father stretching himself thin between overtime shifts—just to give their daughter a life better than their own. And their hard work paid off. Slowly, painfully, things started to shift. By the time she turned eighteen, stability had finally settled into their home like a long-lost guest. No more frantic scrambles to make rent. No more fear of a single medical bill sending them spiralling into debt.

More importantly, their bond had healed. They had learned—through exhaustion, through missed school plays and late-night talks—that love wasn’t just about being present, but about showing up when it mattered. Her parents had communicated, and she had understood.

But Inaya never allowed herself to take that comfort for granted. She knew what it had cost them, and she refused to let their sacrifices be in vain. So she worked her ass off to get a good job, sacrificed a lot of parties and stuffed all her crushes in the back after her first breakup (she loved him and he loved guys). But this author is thankful to god for giving this girl enough sense to create some good friendships, and friends that have lasted and eventually became her own family.

As for Udit, her fiancé, Inaya hadn’t cared much in the first two years of their arrangement. Who he liked, who he slept with—it wasn’t her concern. It wasn’t in her nature to dictate someone else’s desires, even if such detachment wasn’t exactly one of her virtues.

But last year, things changed.

He insisted they try—really try—to connect as a couple. To go beyond the polite conversations and surface-level companionship. He wanted something real. Emotional. Physical. And in return, he made her a promise: she would never have to worry about fidelity.

Alas.

Inaya finally reached the grungy construction site. Dust clung to the air, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional clang of metal. Beyond this rough, half-abandoned space lay a hidden world—a living quarter that, despite its flashy exterior, housed some very questionable people.

Taking a gulp, she stepped forward. I should just have called him to my place instead, she thought, and yet stupidly stepped inside the area.