The Thousand-Day Streak of Lies

For ten years, I believed my long-distance relationship with my architect boyfriend, Griffith, was unbreakable. I was building a successful career, convinced our love was the one constant I could count on.

That illusion shattered the day I saw his phone. A thousand-day Snapchat streak wasn't with me. It was with his intern, a girl he called Kallie Sunshine.

His apology was a cold, duty-bound marriage proposal, followed by him taking the fall for her career-ending mistake at his firm.

In the middle of the chaotic company lobby, as he was sacrificing everything for her, she delivered the final blow.

"I'm pregnant with his baby!" she shrieked, a triumphant smirk on her face. "And you're just a bitter old hag who couldn't keep her man!"

Ten years of my life, my love, my future-all reduced to a humiliating public spectacle. He chose to protect his "little muse" while I was just collateral damage.

I slapped his face, threw the ring at his feet, and walked away. This time, I wasn't just going back to my apartment. I was leaving the country for good.

Chapter 1

Cayla Cherry POV:

The world outside my window was a blur of gray rain and angry wind, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. My fingers trembled as they clutched the phone, the screen a cruel spotlight on the proof I never wanted to find. The "Snapchat streak" wasn't just a number; it was a thousand days of intimate moments I thought belonged to us, now shared with someone else, with Kallie.

Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and stinging. They weren' t soft tears; they were sharp, like tiny cuts. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were burned behind my eyelids: Griffith' s phone, unlocked on the kitchen counter, the contact named Kallie Sunshine glowing like a malicious beacon, and the work laptop he'd forgotten open, filled with messages that twisted my stomach.

I tried to stand, tried to walk away from the cold hard truth staring me in the face, but my legs felt like jelly. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The pain was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest until it was hard to breathe. I hated him. I hated her. But beneath it all, a more dangerous emotion simmered: I hated myself for being so blind.

He' d been different, subtly at first. Little things. A new cologne, an unexplained late night, a quick glance at his phone when it buzzed. I' d dismissed them, rationalized them with the distance between us, the stress of his demanding job. Foolish, so foolish.

The sudden click of the front door jolted me. Griffith. My heart leaped, then plunged. He was here. He was always here, wasn't he? Or at least, he used to be.

"Cayla? You're home. Why are you on the floor?" His voice was that familiar blend of concern and