It started quietly. A few whispers at first—colleagues, friends, and social media posts speculating about Jane and Frederick. But like wildfire, the news spread: Jane, the woman who had left Carrick quietly and with dignity, was now seen by many alongside a billionaire.
Carrick came home one evening, exhausted from work, expecting the usual quiet of his apartment. Instead, he found his phone buzzing incessantly—messages from friends, news alerts, even a notification from a gossip website.
He clicked the headline, and his chest tightened: "From Heartbreak to High Society: Jane and Frederick Spotted Together."
For a moment, disbelief froze him. Then anger. Then something he hadn't felt in years: jealousy.
Elizabeth, his mistress, was waiting for him when he walked into their apartment. Her eyes narrowed the instant she saw the storm on his face.
"Carrick," she said sharply, "what is going on with you? You look like someone just insulted you personally."
He tossed his phone onto the table, his movements sharp. "Jane," he spat the name as if it burned him. "She's with Frederick… the billionaire."
Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "Wait… she's—? Carrick, she left you! You left her! You can't just… you can't act like this now!"
Carrick's face contorted, a mixture of rage and shame. "She's… she's happy, Elizabeth. With him. And everyone's talking about it. Everyone knows. And here I am… I'm a fool. A… a—"
Elizabeth cut him off, her tone icy. "You're a fool? You're pathetic. You acted like a coward when you left her. And now, because she's moved on, you're jealous? You want to drag her back? Do you even hear yourself?"
Carrick's hands clenched into fists. "I… I didn't know how it would feel. I thought I'd be free. But seeing her with him… seeing her admired, respected… it's unbearable."
Elizabeth crossed her arms, glaring. "You wanted freedom, Carrick. You got it. You can't suddenly rewrite history because your pride is bruised."
Carrick's voice dropped, quieter, desperate. "I can't… I can't bear the shame. I thought I'd moved on… but now… I don't want her gone. Not like this. I need her back."
Elizabeth shook her head, disgusted and frustrated. "You need to get over yourself, Carrick. Jane left you because you didn't deserve her. She's building a life you can't even touch. Stop this before you make it worse."
Carrick sank onto the couch, head in his hands. The apartment was silent except for Elizabeth's sharp breathing and his own ragged thoughts. Regret mixed with longing and jealousy, a bitter cocktail he couldn't escape.
Outside, Jane's life continued quietly, away from his shadows. She didn't know that every headline, every whisper, had reached him. And maybe, that was the point.
Carrick realized, too late, that some doors, once closed, never truly reopen.
The office was quiet as Frederick and Jane stepped onto the balcony for a moment of calm. The city lights stretched below them, soft and endless. Jane had noticed the way Frederick sometimes became pensive, his calm exterior giving way to something deeper. Tonight, she felt he wanted to share it.
"Jane," he began carefully, "there's something I should tell you… about my past. About why I… I've been cautious with people before you."
Jane tilted her head, listening.
"My ex-girlfriend, Veronica," he said slowly, "never truly loved me. I… I thought she did, at least at first. But she cheated. Not once, not twice—several times. And she… she lied, manipulated, used my trust."
He paused, staring at the city lights, the words heavy but measured. "Her betrayal… it changed me. Made me distrustful, made me bitter. I started believing that people could only disappoint you, that love came with pain, that maybe I wasn't worth anyone's care."
Jane reached out instinctively, touching his hand. "I'm so sorry, Frederick."
He shook his head gently. "Don't be. That part of me… it had to happen for me to recognize the difference. And then I met you. You didn't manipulate, you didn't play games. You saw me. You believed in me. And for the first time in years… I felt worthy again. Loved again."
Jane's chest tightened, a warmth spreading through her. She didn't need him to say more. She understood the trust he had chosen to place in her, after all he had been through.
Before she could respond, the balcony door clicked open behind them. Both turned in surprise.
Veronica. Her expression a mixture of irritation and calculated charm, her presence impossible to ignore. "Frederick," she said smoothly, stepping forward as if she owned the space. "We need to talk."
Frederick's jaw tightened, but his hand remained lightly holding Jane's. "Veronica… this isn't the time," he said firmly. "I've already moved on. And I… I'm with Jane now."
Veronica's eyes flicked to Jane, a sharp edge of resentment in her glance. "Jane… I didn't expect—"
Frederick interrupted, voice steady and protective. "Jane is the person I choose. The person I love. That's final."
Jane felt a surge of admiration and something deeper—safety, trust, and affirmation. She squeezed his hand gently, silently letting him know she was there, that they were facing this together.
Veronica's lips pressed into a thin line. "I see," she said, her tone cold. "I suppose some people finally get what they deserve."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the two of them on the balcony. Frederick exhaled, finally allowing himself to relax.
Jane looked up at him. "That… must have been hard."
Frederick shook his head, but smiled faintly. "It was. But it's also proof that the past doesn't get to define us forever. You… you showed me that."
Jane leaned into him slightly, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "I'm glad I could," she whispered.
And in that quiet, shared space, they both felt something precious and unshakable: no matter the shadows of the past, the choice to love—and to be loved—was theirs, and theirs alone.