I spent ten years helping my boyfriend, Ryan Wilson, climb the ladder to become a world-renowned fashion designer. But while I was building his career, he was busy complicating mine. He started slipping into a secret, all-too-ambiguous relationship with the company’s new intern model, Stacey Graham.

It all came to a head at the fashion show.

Stacey made a mistake, stepping on my skirt as I walked the runway, and I ended up tripping. The audience gasped, and at that moment, everything went sideways.

Ryan, who should've been supporting me, turned to me with fiery anger. "How can you be so useless? You've been walking the runway for years and still managed to fall?"

He didn't stop there. "If you can't handle it, then quit!"

I was stunned.

Before I could say anything, he turned around and carefully helped Stacey, who had also stumbled. Just watching him hover over her, looking like she was the one who needed comforting, made my stomach churn.

The second her brow furrowed, his eyes turned red with rage.

When reporters swarmed us afterward, Ryan didn't even hesitate.

He pointed right at me. "Laura made a mistake. She pushed Stacey."

He had clearly seen Stacey step on my skirt. It felt like my entire world came crashing down.

Right then and there, I knew his heart had hardened—and it wasn’t mine to claim anymore.

...

I left the runway as fast as possible, calling Jeremy, my brother, who was overseas.

"Book me a plane ticket. I'm coming to you," I said, my voice shaky.

"Have you finally decided?" he asked, almost expecting me to backtrack.

I hummed in response, bracing myself for his usual teasing. But he surprised me. "The ticket's booked. You've got a week to wrap things up there."

I nodded, "Thanks, Bro."

As I was about to hang up, my arm bumped hard from behind. My phone slipped out of my hand and hit the ground with a thud.

"Ow! That hurt!" I winced, reaching for my phone.

It was Ryan. And, of course, he was holding Stacey—again.

With that look on his face, he immediately started asking her, "Where does it hurt?"

When he saw a red mark on her shoulder, he turned to me, anger practically boiling over.

"Laura, is this some kind of sick joke to you? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you made Stacey fall on the runway? Now you're still trying to make her look bad offstage?"

Stacey—oh, of course—tried to smooth things over. "Ryan, please don't be angry. Laura's just upset. Don't blame her..."

Her "understanding" tone didn't calm Ryan down. If anything, it made him even more furious.

"Laura, I really misjudged you," he snapped. "You wanted this to happen. You purposely stood in our way, hoping to cause trouble, right?"

I couldn't help it. "It's you who bumped into me!" I shot back, trying to defend myself.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Oh, so now you're blaming me?" His gaze dropped to the phone lying on the ground, and he sneered. "I heard you talking about booking a plane ticket. Where exactly are you planning to go?"

I didn't even have the chance to answer before Stacey cut in. "I'm sorry, Laura. This is all my fault. Please, don't make things harder for Ryan."

She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he held her tighter.

"Your ankle's hurt. Don't worry about her. Let's go to the hospital."

Ryan moved past me, and whether it was on purpose or not, he stepped on my phone, crushing it under his foot. As they passed by, Stacey lifted her foot just enough to flaunt her stunning high heels in my face.

It was like a punch in the gut.

'Those shoes... I'd seen them before in Ryan's design sketches.'

They were the only pair he'd ever designed. And he'd said they were supposed to be our wedding shoes.

So what did this make everything now?

...

When Ryan finally left with Stacey, my assistant Diana noticed my swollen ankle. "Oh my God, Laura, how did your ankle get this bad?"

It had been since Stacey stepped on my skirt during the show, and I twisted my ankle, trying to stay upright. Now, it was throbbing with a dull ache.

"It's fine," I muttered. "Just take me home. I need to grab my dog and get out of this city."

But Diana wasn't having it. "No way. You're not going home yet. We're going to the hospital."

I sighed, knowing she wasn't going to back down.

She was right, though. I would need to keep moving later, and limping around wouldn't be easy. So, I reluctantly agreed.

I didn't expect that as soon as we arrived at the hospital, we'd run into Ryan's Bentley parked in front.

There was only one parking spot left. Diana had arrived first, but Ryan had deliberately parked his car on the way, blocking her.

The Bentley stopped abruptly, and when I tried to get out, my bad ankle slammed into the front seat. A sharp gasp escaped me.

Ryan got out of the car and knocked on our window. "There's an injured person in my car. Can you move and let me have the spot?"

The nerve of him.

"Ryan, Laura's ankle is seriously injured. Let me park first," Diana said, trying to stay calm.

Through the lowered window, Ryan's gaze flicked toward me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're hurt too?"

I didn't respond. I just turned my face away. It was clear that he hadn't even noticed my injury, not even after I'd taken that brutal fall. Stacey, on the other hand—he was all over her.

"Ryan, let Laura park first," Stacey's soft voice came from the Bentley. "I'm fine, really. It doesn't hurt."

I glanced up and saw the jacket draped over her shoulders.

'Ryan's jacket...'

A knot tightened in my chest, sharp and painful.

I knew that jacket all too well. Ryan was obsessed with cleanliness; he never let anyone touch his clothes, especially me.

Once, I'd caught a cold after a show and borrowed his coat to warm up. He'd thrown it in the trash afterward, saying he didn't like things touched by other people.

But clearly, some people were allowed that privilege.

When Ryan heard Stacey, his expression darkened, and his patience wore thin. "Move aside, now. Immediately."

"Ryan, Laura's really hurt!" Diana snapped, confused by his reaction.

"I said move!" Ryan's voice was sharp, and he turned on Diana with a cold glare. "I'm your boss, remember?"

Then, he gave me a look that made it clear I'd better keep my assistant in line.

I was done.

"Let them go first," I said, closing my eyes, my voice weary. I didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

As the Bentley pulled past us, it scraped against my car with a loud, grating noise. My ankle was struck again, and the pain shot through me so sharply that I almost blacked out.

I tried to steady myself but couldn't help but glance over. And there it was.

As if she hadn't just been in pain herself, Stacey leaned over and kissed Ryan's cheek. "Ryan, you're so good to me."

His voice softened, and my stomach churned as he replied, "For you, it's all worth it."

Right then, an icy coldness spread from my chest, sinking my body.

When Diana helped me to the orthopedic department, I ran into them again. Ryan and Stacey had already seen the doctor and were preparing to leave.

My number was called just as they were about to walk out. Wincing with every step, I hobbled toward the door, but then I heard it—Stacey's soft cry of pain.

"Be gentle..." she whispered.

I turned my head, and my blood ran cold.

There they were. With that same gentle touch he used to reserve for me, Ryan was massaging her ankle.

And there she was, teary-eyed as if she were the one in pain. Ryan's face darkened as he scooped her up, ready to push past me and enter the exam room.

"What's going on here?" the doctor asked, frowning as he approached. "You've already been checked. She should be seen now."

Ryan's temper flared. "How did you examine her? Didn't you see how much pain she's in?"

The doctor looked frustrated. "I told you, she just has a small abrasion. There's no damage to the bones."

Ryan ignored him, not even listening. His gaze flicked toward me, and momentarily, I thought I saw a flicker of hesitation.

"Someone like her," the doctor snapped, pointing at me, "who can't even walk is the one who needs treatment, not her. Understand?"

Ryan stood frozen, eyes shifting uncomfortably, but before he could respond, the doctor gestured toward me. "You can go in now."

Still, in Ryan's arms, Stacey spoke up, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm fine, Ryan. Honestly, it doesn't hurt that much. The doctor just wants to help Laura. Let's not make this harder on them."

She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face, and the sight made my stomach turn.

Ryan’s face went pale with fury. He stepped forward, shoving me roughly aside, looming over the doctor. "You will examine her again carefully. Or I'll have my legal team sue you."

I didn't have time to react before I was shoved off balance, stumbling several steps. My injured ankle twisted again, and the pain was so intense I collapsed onto the floor with a cry.

Ryan turned, hearing me fall, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion. He stepped toward me as if to help, but Stacey tugged at his sleeve, stopping him.

"Slow down, Ryan," she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. "My chest is so tight. I feel a little... uneasy."

Ryan immediately pulled his foot back, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Is your heart bothering you again? I'll take you for an exam first."

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the department, his back to me, never sparing me even a glance.

On the other hand, Stacey couldn't resist throwing one last glance over her shoulder.

A smug smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she mouthed:

'Laura, your boyfriend, is really thoughtful.'

The words stung. I felt a sharp ache in my chest, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from him as he walked out, his arm around her.

"Laura, are you okay?" Diana's voice broke through my thoughts as she helped me up. I winced, the sharp pain from my ankle making my stomach flip, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold emptiness settling in my heart.

I stood there, watching Ryan's figure disappear down the hallway, and despite all the disappointment, a part of me still couldn't believe it.

He was the man I had loved for ten years.

Ten years...

When I was eighteen, my parents died in a car accident.

Afterward, I struggled with severe claustrophobia. It was darkness that wrapped around me, making it impossible to breathe and to think clearly.

But then, Ryan appeared.

He risked everything to save me that day—jumped into a malfunctioning elevator to pull me out.

I can still remember how he bled from the cuts on his arm, his voice shaky but filled with concern, asking, "You're not hurt, are you?"

From that moment on, he became my light, my rescue, the one who helped me break free from my fears.

Despite Jeremy's warnings, I left the villa to live with him. Ryan was still struggling, barely getting by. He'd stay up late drawing sketches, working toward giving us a better future. Even though most of his designs sold for next to nothing, he was always positive.

"I'll give you a better life, Laura. If I fall in love with someone else, I'll never have a good ending," he promised me once.

Those words still echoed in my mind, and for so long, I believed them. I thought we would grow old together, happy and in love.

But now… now I couldn't help but wonder if it was all just an illusion.

The coldness of the moment snapped me back to reality, and after my ankle was bandaged, I left the hospital, ignoring the doctor's warnings to stay longer. I just wanted to get home, to escape the mess that had become my life.

But when I stepped into the elevator, things took another turn. Just as the doors were about to close, the elevator stopped. The lights flickered and then went out, leaving me in total darkness. Instantly, I felt the familiar pressure in my chest, the tightness that came with my claustrophobia. I couldn't breathe.

Then, the sound of a knock on the door shattered the silence.

"Is anyone in there?"

It was Ryan's voice.

Even though I felt crushed by disappointment, fear gripped me more. I was alone in this elevator and the thought of being stuck there without anyone to help him terrified me.

"Yes, it's me!" I called out, desperate for some kind of reassurance.

Ryan paused, and I could hear him trying to suppress his panic. "Wait for me. I'll get you out of there right away!"

I held onto that small hope. He knew about my claustrophobia. He had to come for me. He wouldn't leave me alone.

But just as that hope flickered, I heard a phone ringing outside.

"Ryan, you need to come quickly. Stacey's feeling really bad. The thunder scared her, and her heart… it's really bothering her."

Stacey's frail voice came through the phone. "Ryan, don't worry about me. I'm fine… Ah, it hurts!"

Hearing her in pain seemed to make Ryan shift instantly. His voice softened, filled with concern. "What nonsense are you talking about? You're not fine!"

I heard it—the unmistakable bias in his tone. And with it, the crushing realization that his focus was no longer on me.

"Laura, wait inside. I've called the security guard. They'll be there to help you soon."

The words stung more than they should have, and just as I tried to steady myself, a thunderclap rattled the elevator.

I froze.

The fear hit me like a wave, and I couldn't hold back the tears. My body went limp, and for the first time in years, I felt completely powerless.

Please don't leave me alone, I thought, but the pride I had worked so hard to hold onto shattered.

"Can you… can you not leave?" My voice came out in a broken whisper. "Please."

Ryan hesitated momentarily, but then the edge returned to his tone. "Laura, be good. Stacey could die if we don't take care of her. You know how serious her heart condition is."

Frustration and helplessness surged within me.

"And what about me?" I finally snapped, the tears flooding my eyes. "Don't you think I might die too, Ryan?"

"You just have claustrophobia. How could you possibly die from being locked in? Why are you being so dramatic?" Ryan snapped, standing up and walking out.

Just claustrophobia... He knew exactly how deep the shadow of my parents' deaths loomed over me. He knew that when I had an attack, it was more than just a panic and could be life-threatening.

I still remember those early days when he never once left my side.

He'd hold me tight in the elevator, whispering over and over again, "Don't be afraid."

But now? Now, I was nothing more than a nuisance, an overdramatic woman in his eyes.

My chest tightened as I fought for air. The walls seemed to close in.

"Go ahead, then. Let's break up," I muttered, barely able to get the words out.

Before I could finish, Ryan cut me off. "Whatever," he said coldly, not even looking back as he left.