PROLOGUE

MONSOON THEN

LAYLA

He left her.

He left her.

He left her.

He promised he never would.

He wasn’t like her father. He wasn’t like her mother.

But maybe love is just another illusion.

She lay limp on the bed, clutching her phone like it could bring him back.

Maybe he’d burst through the door and say, “It’s all over now. We’re leaving this city. You, me… and our child.”

But he didn’t know. He never knew.

She never told him. She never got a chance.

So she texted.

Where are you?

I miss you.

I need you.

This isn’t funny anymore.

I love you.

Did you hear about what happened to me?

Is that why you’re not replying?

It’s okay if your feelings changed because of that. I’ll understand. I just need to explain.

Please, Leon. Don’t cut my voice. Please, hear me out.

Her thumb hovered before sending the final message.

God, this isn’t how I wanted to say it… I’m pregnant.

She waited. Two days. Nothing.

Another text, trembling fingers.

It’s yours.

It’s been a month since I knew. I’ll take a test, I’ll prove it. Please. I need you. I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do.

All her messages were seen.

That tiny word gave her hope.

But no reply came.

And just like that, the little spark died before it could burn.

He left her. He knew what happened. And he left anyway.

She didn’t want to believe it. Maybe something happened to him—an accident, or worse.

But no. He was stronger than that. And he had read her messages.

He did this before, didn’t he?

He used to call her annoying. Left her on read many times. But he was always there with her when things got serious and ignored the silly complaints she always does.

But back then, it didn’t matter. They weren’t in love.

Her life wasn’t at stake.

Now it was.

For the last time, swallowing the humiliation, she typed again:

Have you ever loved me? Even once? When you said it—did you mean it?

The reply came instantly.

Two letters.

One word.

Two lives collapsing into silence.

NO.

And that was it.

Her last piece of hope cracked and fell apart.

Tears didn’t come. Not anymore.

Only anger.

Anger at him.

At the world.

At her parents.

At herself.

She promised never to hope again.

Never to trust again. Never to love again.

In this world, everything is a façade.