Chapter 1

I was five years older than him. When we first got together, Kyle would wrap his arms around my waist with a bright, boyish grin.

"Older women are mature," he’d say. "You really know how to take care of a guy."

When his friends teased him about dating an older girl, he pulled me behind him protectively.

"What’s wrong with a few years? I like her exactly the way she is."

Then Mia joined his company. She was his age—twenty-six—bubbly, wild, and always ready to party.

Kyle started complaining that I was a nag: "Can you stop suffocating me? You sound just like my mother."

At a party, Mia poured him another shot of tequila. I gently touched his arm and whispered, "Maybe take it easy tonight."

Kyle slammed his glass onto the table in front of everyone.

"Look at yourself! You’re thirty-one, an old woman! I’m sick of this. Can you stop trying to control my life?"

I looked at him quietly.

"Then let’s break up."

The entire booth went dead silent.

I stood there, calm and still, watching him.

"Serena, what are you talking about?" Kyle frowned, his voice dropping slightly. "I didn't say I wanted to break up. Why are you making a scene?"

Making a scene?

I almost laughed out loud.

His buddy Leo was the first to react, trying to smooth things over with a nervous chuckle.

"Serena, come on, Kyle’s just had too much to drink. He’s talking out of his ass. Don’t take it to heart."

Another guy chimed in. "Yeah, exactly. You know Kyle. He loses his filter when he’s drunk."

Before I could speak, Mia stood up from across the table.

She was wearing a delicate white slip dress, looking youthful and radiant.

She trotted over to Kyle, patted his shoulder softly, and turned to look at me with wide, innocent eyes.

"Serena, please don’t be mad. Kyle really didn't mean it that way. The vibe tonight was just so good, and he wanted to unwind a bit. You do keep him on a pretty tight leash, you know? He’s just stressed."

She pretended to play peacemaker, but every single word poured fuel onto the fire.

With Mia’s hand on his shoulder, Kyle puffed out his chest, his anger flaring back up.

"Exactly! I bust my ass at work all day, and I can't even have a drink with my friends without you micromanaging me! Being with you is choking the life out of me!"

I watched him coldly. "Which is why we’re done."

Kyle's face darkened. He glanced at Mia beside him, then sneered.

"Fine! We’re done! You think I can’t survive without you?"

I nodded, grabbed my purse from the booth, and turned toward the exit.

Leo tried to reach out. "Serena, wait, don’t go—"

As I pushed through the heavy lounge doors, Kyle’s loud voice drifted out behind me.

"Let her leave! She’s just throwing a tantrum. Give her one night, and she’ll get over it."

"Bro, you’re really not going after her?"

"Go after her? Hell no! Let me tell you guys, you can’t spoil women like her. Throwing fits every few days is a bad habit. By the time I finish my drinks and head back, she’ll be begging to make up."

A few guys chuckled.

"Kyle knows what he’s doing."

"Yeah, just ice her out for a bit. She’ll fall right back in line."

Their laughter grew louder.

I didn't turn back. I walked straight to my car and drove home.

My apartment was in the east side of the city—a three-bedroom condo I bought entirely on my own.

I put down the down payment three years ago. Back then, Kyle and I had only been dating for three months, and he was living in a dingy shared rental.

I still remembered the day we signed the closing paperwork. He held my hand at the real estate office and smiled.

"You’re amazing, babe. I’m going to work hard and make tons of money so I can help you pay off the mortgage."

He had been so sweet back then. When he smiled, his eyes curved like crescents, and his lips were always coated in sweet promises.

I took a hot shower, slipped into my pajamas, and lay down in bed.

My phone buzzed several times on the nightstand. Messages from Kyle.

Kyle: *Did you make it home?*

Kyle: *I was just wasted. Don’t be dramatic.*

I didn't reply.

Then he sent a voice memo. I didn't play the audio; I just converted it to text.

"Serena, I was just talking big in front of the boys. You know how it is. Stop taking everything so seriously, okay? We’ll talk when I get home."

Humiliating your girlfriend and dragging her down in front of your friends is called 'talking big'?

I flipped my phone face down on the nightstand and closed my eyes.

Hours later, half-asleep, I heard the deadbolt click.

He was back.

"Serena! Serena!"

He called out, his speech slurred and heavy with alcohol.

I didn't move.

Heavy footsteps stumbled toward the bedroom, and the door was shoved open.

He walked to the edge of the bed, peered down at me, and muttered, "Stop pretending you’re asleep. Go get me a glass of water."

I remained completely motionless.

He stood there for a few seconds, then suddenly snapped, slapping his hand hard against the mattress.

"I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him in silence.

The moment our eyes met, my cold stare seemed to burn right through him. His bluster deflated almost instantly.

He took a step back, his voice dropping into a grumble.

"Fine, fine. I’ll get it myself, happy?"

He went to the kitchen for water, stumbled back into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the mattress like a dead weight.

Within two minutes, his loud snores filled the room.

I rolled over onto my side and stared at his youthful face.

Twenty-six years old. Clean jawline, nice features. In his sleep, he looked like an innocent boy who hadn't been tainted by the world.

Who would have guessed that just two hours ago, that very same face had twisted into something so cruel?