A Decade Undone by Deceit

Chapter 8

Word Count: 697 | Released on: 13/08/2025

reen, then on me. The air was thick

echoing in the dead-quiet room. "I also got y

ing to cover the gaping hole of the truth. My ears were ringing. I couldn' t hear a thing

ended. The sc

feeling unsteady. I walke

day," I said, my voice surprisingly s

ent throug

ds tasting like freedom. "As you can see, she' s found he

-I still couldn' t drink.

ed congratulations and goodbyes. The j

the party had died

onight?" I asked, my v

up here," she said, her lie so eas

in my hand and dropped it in

ten years at least that much respect. But she wa

o the HR office to s

rs wants her favorite dessert from that little bakery downtown. Can you possibly gr

tes from the office. She wasn' t in Jap

tled over me. I needed t

ite was idyllic, with luxury tents and

em: "Congratulations, K+J!" They were having their own private celebration for the deal.

ng them. A couple bumped into

been my entire world, and I smiled.

Kendal," I

y who gave up his guitar, for the man who gave up his

cades in a lifetime. I wou

logo of the bakery, our bakery, and her face went pale. She knew. She frant

rum. I signed the last form, deleted my digital footprin

with my last box of belongings,

rushed in, her face a mask of panic. She st

ach other in the shaft, on

r crossed p

Chapter End

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A Decade Undone by Deceit

Er Duo Romance

“I collapsed from exhaustion after dedicating ten years of my life to my CEO girlfriend, Kendal. I gave up my music, my dreams, everything to build her empire. At the hospital, the doctor delivered the news. Malignant tumor. I needed emergency surgery to save my life. Kendal never visited. Not once. I later found out she was on the phone with another man, sweetly telling him she missed him while I was lying in a hospital bed. Two weeks after they cut the cancer out of me, on her birthday, I went home and cooked her favorite meal. It was supposed to be our last supper, a final goodbye. She stumbled in late that night, drunk, carried piggyback by that same man. They were wearing matching black t-shirts. His said, "I'm with her." Hers said, "I'm with him." She saw me and froze, her laughter dying in her throat. She scrambled off his back, her face a mask of panic and guilt. But I felt nothing. Not anger, not jealousy. The part of me that could feel pain for her had been carved out on the operating table, right along with the tumor. I looked her straight in the eye. "It's over." Then I walked out of the penthouse we once called home, leaving her standing alone in the monument to our failed relationship. This time, I wasn't coming back.”