Gerald’s POV

The first sign that something was wrong came on a Tuesday.

It was small enough that I almost ignored it.

Ophelia had promised to meet me for dinner.

She didn’t show.

I checked my watch for the third time before picking up my phone.

No message.

No call.

Nothing.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds before locking it.

She was probably busy.

That was all.

People had lives outside of each other.

I understood that.

So I went back to work.

An hour later, my phone finally vibrated.

Ophelia: Something came up. Sorry.

I stared at the message.

That was it.

No explanation.

No attempt to reschedule.

Just four words.

I should have been annoyed.

Instead, I found myself making excuses for her.

Maybe she was tired.

Maybe something unexpected happened.

Maybe—

I stopped myself.

This wasn’t important.

I had spent years being suspicious of everything Ophelia did because of what happened between us before. I wasn’t going to repeat that mistake now.

She deserved the chance to prove she’d changed.

And I had already decided to give her that chance.

So I put the phone away.

A few days later, she cancelled again.

This time, I didn't ask why.

She told me she'd been busy.

I believed her.

Or at least, I wanted to.

Things had been slightly different lately.

Not enough to call them wrong.

Just... different.

She was distracted.

Her phone seemed to be constantly in her hand.

Sometimes she'd step away to answer calls.

Sometimes she'd turn her screen away from me.

And whenever I asked, she'd give me an easy explanation.

Work.

Friends.

Something personal.

Nothing worth worrying about.

I told myself I was being paranoid.

I'd already made one mistake by allowing the past to control how I saw her.

I wasn't going to punish her for something she hadn't done.

So I ignored it.

I had chosen her.

I had to trust her.

One evening, I was sitting in my office when Ophelia walked in.

She looked beautiful.

She always did.

But there was something different about her tonight.

Something I couldn’t place.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

She laughed softly.

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy lately.”

She walked toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“And you’re always working.”

I looked at her.

“Maybe we should spend some time together.”

“We will.”

“When?”

She smiled.

“Very soon.”

I studied her face.

For a moment, I almost asked her what was really going on.

Then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

“I missed you.”

The question died in my throat.

I wanted to believe her.

So I did.

Three days later, I found out the truth.

I was leaving a meeting when my assistant approached me.

"Mr. Deneuve."

I looked at him.

"What?"

He hesitated.

"There are some photographs circulating."

"Of what?"

He handed me his phone.

I looked down.

And everything inside me went still.

And there it was, my precious baby: Ophelia.

With…. A fucking loser

A useless piece of shit

another man that wasn’t me

My fingers tightened around the phone.

The first photograph could have been explained.

They were standing close.

Too close, but still.

The second one was worse.

His hand was around her waist.

The third made my stomach twist.

Her lips were against his.

I stared at the screen.

No.

My mind rejected it before I could even process what I was seeing.

"Where did you get these?"

"They're spreading online."

I took the phone from him.

There were more.

Different places.

Different days.

Different photographs.

But the same man.

The same woman.

Ophelia.

My Ophelia.

The woman I'd chosen.

The woman I'd divorced my wife for.

The woman I'd convinced myself had changed.

My hands started trembling.

I scrolled again.

And then I saw one photograph that made something inside me break.

She wasn't just kissing him.

She was looking at him the way I'd spent weeks believing she looked at me.

Like she wanted him.

Like she loved him.

My chest tightened.

I couldn't breathe.

My assistant was saying something, but I couldn't hear him anymore.

All I could hear was the past.

Years ago.

Another man.

Another betrayal.

Another version of Ophelia choosing someone else.

I remembered the day I discovered she'd cheated on me the first time.

I remembered the humiliation.

The anger.

The devastation.

I remembered telling myself I'd never allow her to hurt me that way again.

And then I had.

Not because she had forced me.

Not because I hadn't known what she was capable of.

But because I'd wanted to believe she'd changed.

I had chosen her.

I had believed her.

And I'd thrown Calista away to do it.

My eyes closed.

A painful breath escaped my lips.

"Get out."

My assistant froze.

"Sir?"

"Leave."

He immediately stepped away.

The door shut.

I remained alone.

I stared at the photographs again.

My stomach churned.

There was no excuse this time.

There was no misunderstanding.

No old wound.

No bad timing.

She had cheated on me.

Again.

And suddenly, something far more painful than her betrayal hit me.

Calista.

I saw her standing in front of me with those divorce papers in her hands.

I saw the way she'd looked at me.

She had asked me why I couldn't wait until the contract ended.

I had given her some cold bullshit words

How I'd chosen Ophelia

I'd believed I was choosing love.

But now, staring at those photographs, I finally understood.

I hadn't chosen the woman Ophelia was.

I'd chosen the woman I remembered.

The woman she used to be.

The woman who had loved me before she betrayed me.

And I'd sacrificed the woman who had actually loved me.

Calista had never cheated on me.

She had never humiliated me.

She had never demanded anything from me.

She had spent three years learning me.

My habits.

My routines.

The little things I liked.

The things I didn't.

She knew when I was tired without me saying it.

She knew when I didn't want to talk.

She knew exactly how I took my coffee.

She remembered things I didn't even remember telling her.

And I had called all of that a contract.

I had convinced myself that because she'd entered my life through an agreement, everything she did afterward had been part of the arrangement.

But had it?

My jaw tightened.

No.

It hadn't.

She had chosen me.

Every single fucking day

And I had chosen someone else.

The realization hit so hard that I had to sit down.

I covered my face with both hands.

"Fuck."

My voice cracked.

And my mind started to play more tricks on me

I remembered the morning she brought me breakfast to the office.

Her irritated expression.

The way she'd tried to pretend she wasn't hurt.

The way she'd looked at me when I told her our marriage was only a contract.

I remembered her standing at my bedroom door with that breakfast tray.

I remembered how quickly she walked away.

I remembered the look in her eyes.

And suddenly, I hated myself for every second of it.

I had seen her hurt.

I had known she was hurting.

And I'd still let her go.

Because I thought Ophelia was the woman I loved.

My phone rang.

I stared at the screen.

Ophelia.

My stomach turned.

I answered.

"What the fuck is this?"

Silence.

Then—

"Gerald—"

"Don't."

My voice came out low.

"Don't explain."

"It’s not what you think”

For a second I will fall into the same hell for a third time

For a second I thought… i… she was crying and my heart burnt

This was what it was to love a demon

I was having an headache and just wanted to be alone

"I don't want to hear it.”

I managed to speak

"Gerald, please—"

"You cheated on me."

She went silent.

I laughed bitterly.

"Again."

Nothing.

Not even a denial.

That hurt more than anything.

"You promised me you'd changed."

"I have."

"No."

I stood slowly.

"You haven't."

"Gerald—"

"You haven't changed at all."

My voice cracked with anger.

"Years ago, you chose another man because he could give you something I couldn't. I spent years believing I had somehow moved past that. Then you came back, and I convinced myself that maybe you regretted what you'd done."

My grip tightened around the phone.

"I believed you."

"I'm…sorry”

Deep down I still hoped I had heard a explanation

Deep down my heart still wanted to belive all this was just a cruel joke

That I didn’t make the fucking wrong choice

That… fuck!!

"Don't."

I closed my eyes.

"Do you know what I did because I believed you?"

She said nothing.

"I divorced my wife."

The words tasted bitter.

"I chose you."

Silence, before the worst paty came

“wife?” She scoffed

“you didn’t give a fuck about her when you were with me on your so called matrimonial bed”

I couldn’t belive it

So shocked that my lips forgot how to speak

So shocked that all I could do was stay still realizing how foolish I am in my own life

“We all cheaters… me and you… so dont act like you a saint overnight. Forgive me and we’d move on, it’s just a little mistake”

That was when I ended the call…

I was foolish enough to have even picked it in the first place

“Fuck!”

Anger replaced the pain I was feeling, and my mouth remembered how to yell

I stood up and papers started flying across the room, documents that I needed for meetings, everything!

I was a finish man to have drown yet again in the devil’s arms

My tired eyes found it way to the window,

The city stretched endlessly below me, as my heart burnt even more

Somewhere out there was Calista.

Living her life.

Without me.

And for the first time, I understood something I should have realized before I ever signed those divorce papers.

I hadn't lost her when she walked out of that house.

I had lost her when she loved me the most.

And I was the one who had done it.

The room felt unbearably quiet.

My hands curled into fists.

I wanted to call her.

I wanted to hear her voice.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry.

But I had no idea where she was.

And even if I did...

What could I possibly say?

*I chose her over you, and now that she's betrayed me”

The thought made me sick.

Calista deserved better than that.

She deserved to be someone's first choice.

Not the person they ran back to after their first choice failed.

I leaned back and shut my eyes.

For the first time in years, I had absolutely no idea what to do.

But one thing was certain.

I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

And this time, there was no contract left to protect me from the consequences