SASHA’S POV
As I stood frozen in the dimly lit corner of the ballroom, Sebastian’s words echoed in my mind, a last reassurance before he’d gone off to the restroom.
I felt my fingers tighten around the phone, the last message still glaring up at me from the screen. “If you want to know the truth about your husband, go to the back room now. Don’t waste time.”
It had taken every ounce of willpower to keep a calm face next to him after seeing the message,
like I hadn’t just received a threat wrapped in a taunt.
Why tonight? Why here, surrounded by people, glitzy chandeliers hanging over the ballroom, every corner filled with faces I didn’t recognize?
I glanced around the room, at faces engaged in idle chatter, laughter spilling out around glasses of champagne and canapes. Could one of these people have sent the message?
For a moment, I considered the obvious. I could follow him to the restroom and confront him, asking him directly what this message was all about.
But my phone buzzed in my hand, almost like it was prodding me to follow the sender’s instructions.
I glanced down again. My chest tightened as I read, “Go now, Sasha. He’ll be finished before you get there. Don’t waste time.”
It felt as if someone had shoved me forward, and without another thought, my legs carried me toward the back of the room, weaving through couples and groups who barely noticed me brushing by.
My pulse quickened with each step, matching the rhythm of my heels against the polished floor.
The further back I went, the darker the room became as the lights transitioned from the bright glow of the main room to the softer, more shadowed corners of the venue.
The hallway stretched ahead, quieter now, muffling the sounds of the party. I paused, heart racing, and considered turning back.
But then I remembered the message, the haunting suggestion that whatever lay ahead would finally pull back the curtain on the secrets Sebastian kept.
I pressed forward, willing myself not to think about what I might find.
As I reached the end of the hallway, a low murmur drifted around the corner, voices too quiet to distinguish. I took a deep breath, letting my fingers graze along the cool wall for support.
A sharp pang of anxiety gripped me, and I clutched my phone like it was my last tether to reality. My hand trembled as I peeked around the corner.
There, a figure in a dark suit stood, his back to me.
He was leaned close to someone, a woman whose hands clung to his shoulders, fingers curling possessively around his collar as they kissed.
My breath caught, and I instinctively stepped back, my heel scraping against the floor with a small, betraying sound. The man’s posture, his stance, everything about him looked unmistakably like Sebastian.
No, no, no. My mind raced, grasping for excuses, something, anything to tell me this was just a horrible mistake.
He couldn’t-he wouldn’t do this to me. Not here, not after everything we’d been through. My eyes were fixed on them, refusing to blink as if that would somehow erase the sight before me.
With a shaky breath, I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my pulse hammer beneath my palm. The voices were louder now, murmuring words that slipped through the air like poison.
Her laughter, soft and sweet, rose to punctuate the silence. “I thought you’d be too busy with her,” she whispered, voice barely audible but laced with mischief.
The man replied, but his voice was low, too quiet for me to make out the words. It twisted in my gut, the way he held her close, the way they moved together.
My hand clamped over my mouth as I stifled a gasp, and I backed up, desperate to keep my emotions in check.
But the anger boiled, a slow burn that turned into a wildfire with every passing second.
I took a step forward, fists clenched, and opened my mouth to confront him to demand answers, to let the pent-up hurt and frustration spill out in words.
But then, he pulled back just slightly, enough for me to catch the briefest glimpse of his face, shadowed but unmistakably familiar, and the world stopped.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. Every word, every apology, every whisper of affection between us flooded my mind, flashing by in a cruel montage.
And all I could do was stand there, glued to the spot, while my heart shattered into pieces so small I didn’t think I’d ever be able to put them back together.
The laughter, the stolen glances, the way he’d held me close all, of it felt like a lie.
“What am I doing?” I whispered to myself, barely audible, as if voicing it out loud might somehow ground me in reality.
But the moment I spoke, he must have sensed it, he turned, his gaze catching mine for the briefest of moments. And in that instant, everything fell silent.
The world, the party, the buzz of my phone it all faded, leaving only the two of us and the betrayal that hung thick between us.
“Sebastian?”