Betrayal by My Fiancé

"Stella?"

I was just returning from the grocery store, stepping into the apartment complex when I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned around, my expression freezing in place. It was Angel.

The image of her wrapped in Jensen's arms, with a disdainful smile on her face, replayed in my mind over and over again. I thought I had let all that go, that after these months it no longer mattered. But seeing her now, I realized that wasn’t true. I hadn't moved on; I had merely hidden the scars for a while.

My whole body went rigid, an inexplicable coldness seeping into my limbs. Angel approached me, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Stella, it really is you!”

Even the loud, bustling sounds of the street couldn't drown out the sharp click of her heels on the pavement. It took me what felt like ages to find my voice again.

“Angel. What are you doing here?”

I hadn't noticed how hoarse and raw my voice sounded until I spoke. She beamed at me, her smile insistent as she closed the distance between us. "I'm on a business trip. And you? Still working in real estate?"

My heart skipped a beat. How did she know? At the time, sales was the only job that required no credentials but offered a chance to earn substantial money. Though the job was grueling and sometimes required me to put on a brave face for clients, Jensen’s medical bills were astronomical. In comparison, if it meant he could wake up, the hardship seemed insignificant.

Yet, I hadn't been in the job long before getting fired due to an "incident." I thought it was because I wasn't good enough and regretted it for a long time. I looked up at Angel's ever-present smile and felt a sting—a smile more like a mockery of me. Instinctively, I asked, "Have you been checking up on me?"

She flicked her hair back, laughing. “I don’t have the resources for that. Jensen’s been the one keeping tabs on you.”

My eyes widened in shock. He had known all along how hard I was working?! Yet he never showed his face.

I felt something inside me break—my heart splintering into countless fragments.

“But you know…” Angel drawled slowly, “it was actually my suggestion to Jensen that he shouldn't intervene.”

I stared at her, wide-eyed.

She scoffed, "Why are you so surprised? Did you really think Jensen loved you?"

“Someone like you, without looks or brains, isn’t a match for him.”

"I don't mind telling you now, your previous sales job was a little trap I suggested to Jensen."

“Do you remember Mr. Smith?”

Her words hit me like a bolt from the blue, sending shockwaves through me. Mr. Smith was my boss in real estate sales. At the time, as a rookie, closing a deal was no walk in the park. To win clients over, I would wake up before dawn to buy breakfast and wait at their doorsteps. I’d help care for their elderly, clean bathrooms, and even pick up their kids from school.

Yet, just as I was about to close a deal, Mr. Smith stole the client from me and claimed the hefty commission, leaving me to watch in disbelief. Not only that, but he started stalking me. One night, he attacked me from behind, and if it weren’t for a passerby, my life would have been ruined.

Worse still, I didn’t even have the luxury of time to press charges. I needed to work and save up for medical bills, and a lawsuit would drain me of money and time I couldn't afford to lose. He offered me a sum for a private settlement, and I had no choice but to accept it quietly.

The next day at the morning meeting, he told everyone that the client chose him over me and that I had falsely accused him of harassment out of spite, forcing him to pay me off. The conversation where I accepted the money was his irrefutable evidence.

I not only lost my job but was detained because of it.

When I was released, I felt like I had lost everything. Returning to my rented apartment, I found my belongings tossed in the trash by my landlord, the door tightly locked. I stared blankly at the chaos, feeling like the unluckiest person in the world.

That day, I stood with one foot over the edge of the rooftop. Then, the call came from the hospital—a doctor telling me Jensen had shown signs of improvement, that his eyelids had fluttered. They said not to give up, that there was still hope.

That call saved me that day.

But it was all a lie. Mr. Smith was part of their game. How could Jensen watch as I was humiliated and driven to despair?

Perhaps, just like this, he held Angel as they laughed at my foolishness. Would he have felt even a twinge of regret for what he did to me? No, he wouldn’t. Had he cared even a little, he wouldn’t have let me fall that far.

Even that hospital call was just a cruel game, like toying with a dog. I was nothing more than a pawn to him and Angel. The thought brought a bitter laugh to my lips, tears streaming down, tasting so bitter.

Jensen, you made my life so bitter. If you didn’t love me, why couldn’t you just let me go? Why torture me like this?

"Ahhhh—!"

The empty street echoed with the sound of my despairing sobs.