CHAPTER 2: An intense betrayal

Amara’s POV

About ten minutes, I was still standing at the door, knocking, but there was no answer.

The lights were on upstairs. I could see the faint yellow glow bleeding through Derek’s bedroom curtains. He was home. Or at least someone was. I glanced down at my phone. No missed calls. No texts. Just the last one I sent that hadn’t even been delivered:

“I’m outside. Can we talk?”

Nothing.

Still, something in me didn’t want to give up. It had only been two weeks since I left for Pennsylvania. Just fourteen days. But it felt like a hundred. The silence between us stretched wider than I ever imagined it could. I thought… I don’t know, I thought he’d be happy to see me. I thought maybe he missed me the way I missed him.

But Derek didn’t answer.

And then I remembered—the spare key.

He used to tease me about being so paranoid, always forgetting things, always needing reminders. But he was worse than me. He kept a backup key tucked under one of the ceramic flower pots on his porch. I crouched beside them, feeling slightly stupid, but when I lifted the third one, there it was. Right where it had always been.

I hesitated only for a second before I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The air smelled the same. Him. Minty cologne mixed with cedarwood and something familiar I couldn’t name. My throat tightened. God, I had missed that scent. Missed his arms. Missed his voice. Missed us.

The living room was a mess. Not in the casual Derek-way, but…off.

Pants. A bra. Heels. Scattered across the floor like someone had torn them off in a rush.

I froze.

No. That couldn’t be right.

I knelt down slowly, picked up the red lace bralette from the carpet. It wasn’t mine. I didn’t even own something like this. My heart began to pound.

I tried to tell myself it was probably Avery’s—Derek’s older sister. Maybe she came over. Maybe she had friends here. Maybe this was nothing. It had to be nothing.

I picked up the rest of the clothes, trying not to think too hard. Folded them neatly, just for something to do with my hands. Trying not to imagine things that could shatter me.

“Maybe it’s Avery,” I whispered under my breath as I ascended the stairs with slow, careful steps. “Maybe she’s crashing here for the weekend.”

But the moment I reached his bedroom door, I knew.

The door wasn’t fully shut. And behind it—sounds.

Rhythmic.

Ragged.

Unmistakable.

No.

I froze with the clothes still in my arms. My pulse hammered against my skin. A part of me screamed to turn around. To run. But another part—heavier, darker, quieter—needed to see.

I inched closer to the door, careful not to breathe too loud, and peered through the sliver that was left open.

And that’s when my world cracked wide open.

Derek was inside.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was standing by the side of his bed, naked, thrusting into a girl with icy platinum hair, her legs wrapped around his waist like she’d been there before. Like she belonged there. Like this wasn’t the first time.

My hands were numb. My body was frozen. I couldn’t even drop the clothes.

“F-fuck, babe,” Derek moaned, his head dropping to kiss her neck. “You always know how to make a man feel good.”

I swallowed.

Babe. He called her babe.

The same way he used to call me.

No. No, this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Not Derek. Not like this. Not with—

“It's all you,” the girl gasped, her voice breathy. Familiar.

So familiar it made my blood run cold.

“You mean like this?” Derek asked, driving himself deeper into her.

Her moan was louder this time. She arched, trembling underneath him. “Yes—yes, baby. Right there. Again.”

I couldn’t stop watching. My brain screamed at me to leave, to pull away from the door, but my feet refused. I had to know who she was. I had to see her face.

Then she said his name.

“Derek… please…”

And I knew.

I knew that voice. I’d know it anywhere.

It was Brittany.

My best friend.

My best friend, who’d held me while I cried over him.

My best friend, who said he wasn’t worth it when we argued.

My best friend, who looked me in the eyes and swore she’d never do anything to hurt me.

Oh my God.

“Please what?” he whispered.

“Please… fuck me harder,” she begged.

And he did. Grinning.

I dropped the clothes I was holding. They slipped to the ground soundlessly, like the last bit of hope I had in either of them.

“Your wish is my command, my princess.”

Princess.

That was what he used to call me too. That was my name.

I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and called him. I needed to see what he’d do. I needed to hear it.

The phone rang.

Brittany’s voice pierced the air. “Who is it now?”

Derek picked up his phone and scoffed. “It's her," he spat.

“That goody-two-shoes.?” Brittany chipped in.

That bitch.

She said it like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.

Derek chuckled. “Come on, baby. That’s no way to talk about your best friend.”

Best friend.

The word stabbed deeper than anything else had.

“Says the guy who’s been fucking her best friend behind her back,” Brittany giggled, “for the seventeenth time.”

Seventeenth?

Oh.

So this wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t new. This wasn’t even regretful. This was deliberate.

Derek smirked. “Are you keeping count now?”

“I was,” she purred, “until you made me lose track every time you made me cum so hard I forgot the last number.”

I covered my mouth to keep from screaming.

“You bad, bad girl,” he growled, pinning her wrists to the bed as he thrust harder.

“You’re the one who couldn’t resist me,” Brittany gasped. “Don’t act like you didn’t want it. You should be thanking me. Unlike that little prude you call a girlfriend, I know how to keep you satisfied.”

Prude.

Trash.

Was that what I was to him?

I should have left then. I should have run.

But I couldn’t.

I was still hoping he’d say something—anything—that proved I hadn’t imagined it all. That he once loved me. That I mattered.

Instead—

“Please… Scott—don’t stop. I’m gonna cum…”

“I love you, Brittany,” he moaned, his voice hoarse, eyes closed as he came inside her.

I staggered back from the door like I’d been slapped.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

I just… left.

I walked back downstairs, numb. Picked up the folded clothes I’d dropped earlier, then scattered them on the living room floor—right where I found them. I placed the spare key back in the flower pot and stepped into the night.

The cold wind slapped my cheeks as I wrapped my coat tighter around myself.

A cab was driving down the street. I flagged it down.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.

I stared ahead blankly. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Just… drive.”

He nodded.

The city lights blurred past the window, soft and unfocused. My thoughts were louder than the honking cars, louder than the static on the radio, louder than my own heartbeat.

I thought I had a home with him.

I thought Brittany loved me.

I thought I was enough.

But I wasn’t.

I was nothing.

Just the girl who waited too long.

Just the girl who said no.

And apparently… that was unforgivable.

As the cab rolled past streetlights and shuttered shops, I pressed my forehead to the window, closing my eyes, wishing I could erase it. Wishing I could un-see all of it. Wishing, more than anything, that I hadn’t walked up those stairs.

But I had.

And nothing would ever be the same again.