After His Engagement, I Deleted Ten Years of Secret Love

For a heart-stopping moment, my mind went completely blank. His kiss was clumsy and desperate, nothing like the gentle pecks I had dreamed of for years. This was raw, fueled by alcohol and a longing meant for another woman.

He pushed me against the wall, his hands fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, still murmuring her name. "Amelia, I missed you so much..."

The pain was sharp, a brutal awakening. This dream, when it finally came true, was a nightmare.

"I'm not Amelia!" I screamed, pushing against his chest with all my might. "I'm Ava!"

My voice, raw with anguish, seemed to cut through his drunken haze. He froze, his body going rigid. He blinked, his eyes slowly focusing on my face.

Recognition dawned, followed by a wave of confusion. He didn't push me away. Instead, he pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my shoulder.

"Stay," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Just... don't leave."

I couldn't fight him. I was too tired, too broken. I let him hold me, the scent of whiskey and regret filling my senses, until exhaustion finally claimed me and I fell asleep in his arms.

I woke up on his bed, the morning sun streaming through the window. Ethan was sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching me. His face was pale, his eyes dark with a storm of emotions.

"Why were you in my bed?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Before I could explain, he cut me off, his tone laced with disgust. "I told you not to cross the line, Ava. I never thought you would stoop this low. If you ever try something like this again, I will have you thrown out of this house for good."

Every word was a slap in the face.

I swallowed the explanation that clawed at my throat. It didn't matter. Nothing I said would change his mind.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Five more days, I told myself. Just five more days, and I'll be gone.

I walked out of his room, my clothes rumpled, my heart in pieces. And there, standing at the top of the stairs, was Amelia.

Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed with fury as she took in my appearance and the room I had just exited.

"What were you doing in Ethan's room?" she demanded, her voice trembling with rage.

"You shameless little..." she hissed, her face contorted with jealousy. "How dare you climb into his bed while he's drunk?"

I stood there, head bowed. What could I say? The truth sounded like a pathetic excuse.

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again," she warned, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "I will make sure you are thrown out onto the street with nothing. Do you understand?"

She stormed past me, slamming the door to her own room.

My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, the last of my strength gone. The weight of his accusations and her threats crushed me.

I buried my face in my hands, and for the first time in a very long time, I let myself cry. Sobs wracked my body, silent and convulsive, as a decade of devotion turned to ash.