Nyra's Point Of View
I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
Like an idiot.
Like someone who still believed in soft endings and forever promises.
I kicked the door shut behind me with my heel, balancing the boxes in my arms, laughing under my breath.
"I swear if he doesn't cry, I'm returning everything," I muttered to myself, already picturing his face.
The living room smelled like him.
That stupid mix of cedarwood cologne and laundry detergent and something warm that always made me feel like I'd finally come home. I stood there for a second, just breathing it in, heart full and stupid and glowing.
God, I loved this man.
I shifted the boxes higher in my arms and walked in properly, nudging the light on with my elbow.
"Baby?" I called out lightly. "Don't come out! I'm setting up a surprise."
No answer.
I grinned.
"Okay fine, ignore me. Be mysterious. I like that too."
I dropped the first box on the center table and clapped my hands once, excited energy buzzing under my skin. I'd spent three days planning this. Three days running around like a madwoman between work, traffic, and shops that never had what I wanted.
Anniversary decorations were stupidly overpriced.
But he was worth it.
He was always worth it.
I opened the first box and pulled out the fairy lights, carefully untangling them, my lips moving as I imagined how everything would look when he walked in. Soft lights. Candles. That wine he loved but pretended not to because it was "too sweet."
I snorted.
Liar.
"You're going to love this," I whispered under my breath, already picturing him pulling me into one of those slow hugs that melted my bones. The kind where he buried his face in my neck and just stayed there like I was oxygen.
God, I missed him.
Work had been insane lately. We barely saw each other properly the past two weeks. Just rushed kisses, sleepy texts, half-finished calls.
Tonight was supposed to fix that.
Tonight was supposed to remind us who we were.
I climbed onto the couch to fix the lights along the wall, biting my lip in concentration, tongue peeking out a little. One wrong tug and the whole thing would collapse.
"There," I whispered triumphantly.
Perfect.
I hopped down, dusting my hands dramatically like I'd just completed a construction project.
"Interior designer Nyra strikes again."
I bent to grab the next box, and that's when I noticed it.
A shirt.
On the floor.
I frowned.
"…Did he change and just drop it?"
I bent and picked it up. Not his favorite shirt. Just some random black one. Probably from work.
Typical.
"You are actually incapable of using a hanger," I mumbled, already folding it absentmindedly.
Then I saw another one.
Near the couch.
Then jeans.
A belt.
My smile faltered, but only slightly.
Okay… weird.
But not weird-weird.
Just… messy-weird.
"Wow. You really let yourself go when I'm not here, huh?" I chuckled, trying to keep the lightness in my voice, even though something small and cold brushed against the back of my neck.
It wasn't fear.
Just a flicker.
A tiny, quiet unease.
I picked up the rest of the clothes, stacking them neatly over my arm. They were all male. Definitely. Bigger sizes. Different cuts. But that wasn't alarming.
He had friends.
His brother came around sometimes.
Guys left stuff over all the time.
Normal.
Normal normal normal.
I walked toward the hallway slowly, my excitement dipping into something quieter, something more watchful. The house felt… off.
Not wrong.
Just… not the way it usually felt when it was just him and me.
Quieter.
But heavier, like the air had swallowed something.
"Baby?" I called again, softer this time.
No answer.
I frowned.
"Are you sleeping? If you're sleeping, I'm actually going to be offended because I carried wine and candles and emotional damage in those boxes."
Still nothing.
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head.
"Unbelievable."
I shifted the folded clothes in my arm and walked down the hallway, my steps slower now, more measured without me meaning them to be. My heart had started doing that thing. That quiet, uneven rhythm. Not panic.
Just awareness.
I stopped in front of the bedroom door. Closed. Not unusual, but the light underneath was on.
I stared at it for a second.
Something twisted in my stomach.
I swallowed.
"You're being dramatic," I whispered to myself. "It's literally your fiancé. Relax."
I lifted my hand.
Knocked once.
Lightly.
No answer.
My fingers curled slightly.
I tried the handle.
It wasn't locked.
A strange relief washed through me, and I almost laughed at myself.
See? You're crazy. Everything's fine.
I pushed the door open.
"Ba—"
The word died in my throat.
Not faded. Not softened. It snapped. Like something thin and fragile breaking clean in half.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
For a second, just one, my brain refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.
It felt like staring at a painting that didn't make sense. Colors in the wrong places. Shapes that shouldn't exist.
I blinked hard.
Once.
Twice.
My hand came up without me realizing it, fingers dragging across my eyes like I could wipe the image away and replace it with something else. Something normal.
Something safe.
But when I looked again, it was still there.
Still happening.
Still real.
My fiancé.
The man I had built my entire life around. The man whose name I had practiced writing beside mine like a stupid teenager.
The man I defended in arguments, chose in silence, trusted without hesitation.
He wasn't looking at me. He didn't even know I was there. His back was to the door.
And he was tangled in someone else. Another man. My fiancé was busy getting his ass railed by a man.
Everything inside me went very, very quiet.
Not shattered.
Not screaming.
Just… silent.
Like someone had stepped into my chest and turned the volume of the world all the way down. I didn't drop the clothes in my arms.
Didn't gasp.
Didn't cry.
My heart was racing… I could feel it, wild and uneven, slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape, but the rest of me stayed still.
Cold. Detached. Watching.
I stepped inside.
One step, then another. Slow. Measured. Like I was afraid any sudden movement would make the scene explode.
They still didn't notice me.
He was making sounds I had never heard before.
Raw ones.
Ugly ones.
Not the soft laughter he gave me. Not the low murmurs into my hair. Not the quiet, sleepy voice that said my name like it meant something sacred.
These sounds were sharp. Broken. Animal, like an injured hyena.
My stomach twisted violently.
For a second, I thought I might throw up.
But I didn't. I just kept walking until I was fully inside the room. Watching. Observing. Like I had stepped out of my own body and left something hollow behind to stand there.
His face turned slightly then, and I saw it.
The expression.
Pleasure. Unfiltered. Unfamiliar.
It looked wrong on him. Like someone else was wearing his skin.
Something inside me cracked then.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just a small, clean fracture somewhere deep.
I shifted the clothes in my arm and slowly folded them over the chair beside the door. Neatly. Carefully. Like I was still the same person who walked in here minutes ago.
My hands were steady.
That scared me more than anything.
I reached into my bag.
Pulled out my phone.
My fingers didn't shake as I lifted it, didn't tremble as I pressed record. I didn't zoom in. Didn't move closer. I just stood there and let the camera see what I was seeing.
Proof.
Maybe for later.
Maybe for survival.
Maybe because some part of me already knew no one would believe this version of the story without evidence.
After a few seconds, I lowered the phone. Stopped recording, slipped it back into my bag.
Then I folded my arms.
And finally… finally, I spoke.
My voice came out calm. Too calm, like it belonged to someone else.
"Hope you guys don't mind having company?"