My Ex-Fiancé Stole My Dreams

star architect Declan Sharp. I poured my life into his career, sa

n, Kisha. He was showing her my design, the one he calle

r, then publicly dismissed me as a mere "drafting assistant."

e he used to build his empire. He neve

very blueprint, every trace of my work from his life. Then I blocked his number a

pte

d, ended not with a bang, but with his careles

fe into his career, into us, sacrificing my own ambitions to be his partner, his fiancée. We were supposed to get married. The wedding i

the keyboard, a simple form awaiting my confirmation. A transfer request. Detroit. It was a challenging, underfunded community revi

doorframe, his brow furrowed with concern. "I saw your transfer request come

fine, Marcus. I just need a change of pace. New challenges." The wor

Shocked, even. You two are inseparable. Everyone knows t

clung to, even as it stripped away pieces of who I was. The truth was, I wasn't inseparable

gs, canceled weekends. Ten years of putting his needs, his deadlines, his vision before my own. I designed the initial concepts he sketched, refined the models he deemed crude, found the solu

d defer to my judgment on minor details, confident I' d handled it. The way he' d occasionally place an absentminded hand on my shoulder, a

d illusion. A convenient arrangement. And Kisha Fleming, t

nd connections. She breezed in, a splash of vibrant color in our usually monochromatic world, and effortlessly breached Declan' s carefull

are reflecting off the sterile equipment. My arm was heavily bandaged, my head throbbed. I' d been severely injured, protecting his designs from corporat

ffering. A penance. A way to alleviate the crushing weight of responsibility he felt for my injury. He saw my sacrifice, not as an act of love, but as a debt he needed to repay. And I, ba

Kisha c

ten to her, not just hear her. He' d never done that with me. Not truly. He' d hear my advice, my ideas, my concerns,

perspective," her "unconventional ideas." He' d never praised my ideas with such enthusiasm, even when they formed the very backbone of his award-winning proje

I was finishing up a presentation for Declan, the one for the new waterfront development. I heard his voice, softer than

houlders, his thumb gently stroking her arm. He was showing her my design concept, the one I' d slaved over, the one he'd deemed "competent." "This is Kisha's

, crumbled in an instant. It wasn't just the credit for the design. It was the way he looked at her.

etroit. A new life. A fresh start. An escape. I hit 's

my phone buzzed. A

st landed. Can

red. Not ours. Never truly ours. My thumb hovered over the keyboard. My fingers, accustomed to

I ca

een felt like the beginning of an earthquake. The f