The car moved smoothly, but my dreams were a storm I couldn't escape. One moment, I was back on that freezing winter night, pressing a steaming cup of hot chocolate into Aryan's hands after I found him passed out from hunger in some dark alley. The next, I was a little girl lost on a sweltering summer evening, and Gloria was pressing a stuffed animal into my arms, guiding me back to my parents.

They became everything to me. And yet, they couldn't stand the sight of each other.

"I come from nothing," Aryan would always say, his jaw tight. "I know exactly what Gloria wants. She's only after your connections."

Never one to back down, Gloria would fire right back, "He's such a blockhead, Dallas. How do you even put up with him?"

Day after day, I played referee between my boyfriend and my best friend, my stress shooting through the roof as my hair literally started thinning out. Over time, their fights became less frequent, and I had fewer fires to put out—except on our anniversary. That's when they'd blow up all over again, forcing the three of us to spend the day stuck together.

"Honey, we're home. Wanna grab a bite?" Aryan gently nudged me awake, guiding me inside with a careful hand.

I wanted to pull away from his touch, but my body felt weirdly heavy, like moving through quicksand.

"You've got a fever. Take some medicine and lie down," he said, but I caught that flicker of something nervous in his eyes.

I took the pills, and Gloria patted my back with her fake-sweet concern. "You need to rest up good. I'll keep an eye on this troublemaker," she joked, her voice dripping with honey.

Back in my room, I spit the pills out and waited. An hour later, the unmistakable sounds of them together drifted in from the living room.

Gloria's voice, calm and soothing, floated through the walls of the house I'd shared with Aryan for two years. "Talk louder, we slipped her a strong dose. She's not waking up."

The bitter taste of those pills still clung to my tongue. Gloria's sugary voice came next, "Happy anniversary, sweetheart. Here's to another year just for us."

Aryan's voice was a low murmur. "From now on, every anniversary belongs to us."

The second year Aryan and I were together, Gloria started crashing our anniversary. Back then, I'd rub my forehead and sigh, "Seriously, can't you two just stop? You want to cause a scene at the police station? Fine. How about Gloria just comes to dinner instead?"

From then on, every anniversary, I'd mysteriously get sick. I'd blamed work stress, but the truth was Aryan had been drugging me so he could sneak off with Gloria on our special day, right under my nose.

The hot, white rage of betrayal surged through me, and my stomach heaved.

I bolted to the bathroom and threw up until I had nothing left. Catching a glimpse of my gaunt reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. When had I gone from a vibrant, lively young woman to this worn-down, hollowed-out shell?

Maybe it was when I agreed to start that business with Aryan, grinding until I developed a bleeding ulcer. Or maybe it was when I pushed through a blistering summer heatwave to explain those projects to Gloria, only to end up hospitalized with heatstroke.

Dizzy and drained, I stumbled out of the bathroom and stared at the blood-red quilt on the bed. Earlier this year, Aryan had finally promised to marry me.

"My company is about to go public. Once the bell rings, I'll marry you," he'd said.

I'd begged my father to invest millions, wanting to help Aryan chase his dreams. He'd been moved to tears, swearing he'd give me the best life imaginable. That day, he bought the quilt, the decorations, a whole wedding setup.

"Just waiting to make you my bride, darling!" His earnest expression matched the sincerity of his first confession.

Little did I know, his betrayal had started four years ago.

"What are you doing? Dallas is still in the bedroom!" Gloria squealed.

"Let's go to the bed, make it feel like you're marrying me," Aryan whispered back.

Before I could even process it all, Aryan shoved the door open. They stumbled into the bedroom, naked and tangled together, locking eyes with me—me, standing there frozen, shattered.

Dallas, you're... awake?" Aryan's body went rigid in an instant, while Gloria's face drained of all color.

"This isn't what it looks like..." she stammered.

I said nothing. Just watched as Aryan clumsily untangled himself from Gloria. He scrambled for the clothes he'd carelessly tossed around the living room, sweat beading on his forehead. In his panic, he yanked the covers up over Gloria, who was still undressed.

"She's not decent—just let her lie there for a bit."

I took in the mess around me, their guilty faces. The sheer absurdity of it slammed into me. I hadn't come looking for this, and yet here it was, laid bare right in front of me.

I forced myself to stay calm, sinking into a chair. "When did this start?"

"...Four years ago, during the East End project," Aryan admitted, his voice small, head bowed. "You asked me to show her the ropes. She kept messing up, and I lost my cool on her—like, a lot. One day she just broke down crying. And in that moment, her vulnerability... it got to me. I lost my head."

"After that, I figured you wouldn't find out, so I kept seeing her. It went on until now."

I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to keep it together. "That project where you brought her along? I drank so much damn coffee for those meetings I ended up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. You two came to visit me, blaming each other for not taking better care of me. It was all just a show for my sake, while you were sneaking around behind my back?"

Guilt flooded Aryan's eyes. He nodded. "It wasn't like that! I lost control, and I'm so sorry, Dallas. I betrayed your trust."

"Let's end this."

My voice came out tired. "Get out of my house before I lose it."

Aryan's head snapped up, in shock. "No— let's not break up! We're so close to getting married, Dallas. Can't you forgive me, just this once?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Once? Four years of lies, and you call it 'once'?"

My eyes burned with tears as I turned to Gloria. "You think I'm some kind of fool? So naive you thought you could claim to love me while stabbing me in the back?"

Huddled under the sheets, tears streaming down her face, Gloria whimpered, "I'm sorry, Dallas. Do whatever you want to me."

"I couldn't help how I felt. I shouldn't have fallen for him..."

With that, she climbed out of bed, and the red marks on her body scorched themselves into my vision.

"And this is what you call being a friend? This is your gratitude for everything I've done for you?"

Overwhelmed, I grabbed the photo album on the bedside table and hurled it. Glass shattered across the floor, our engagement photo slipping out. I snatched it up and tore it to pieces.

"Get out! Both of you!"

Gloria fled the room, sobbing. But Aryan knelt down on the broken glass, his eyes full of anguish.

"I don't deserve you, but I can't let this end. Please, Dallas, give me another chance. I won't screw up again!"

His knees bled as he pressed his face into my hand. "I love you. I don't want to lose you."

After that moment, it was like Aryan finally woke up to the consequences. He cut all ties with Gloria, acting like she didn't exist, dodging any chance of running into her.

He made all his messages and calls an open book, clocked in and out of work on the dot, and gave me hourly updates on where he was. Even though the sight of him made me sick every single day, he'd just kneel there quietly, waiting for my anger to burn out.

A week later, Gloria handed in her resignation. Attached to it was a copy of her pregnancy test results.