Billionaire's Chase For His Thorned Rose

Snow continued to fall, delicate flakes landing on my cheeks, melting into tiny rivulets that mixed with tears I refused to shed. Not here. Not in front of these people, these mocking eyes that had seen enough of my humiliation. My legs moved on their own, carrying me away from the restaurant, away from the whispers of strangers and the cold silence of betrayal.

By the time I got home, the silence felt deafening. The warmth of the apartment was supposed to be comforting, but it wasn’t. My coat hung limp in my hand as I stood in the entryway, unable to summon the energy to do anything more. Then, my phone buzzed. And buzzed again. It wouldn’t stop.

Each notification carried the same sting, dragging me back to Miranda’s Instagram. Another post. Another glowing comment section. I slumped onto the couch, the cushions swallowing me as I opened my phone.

The first post showed a photo of Damon holding a plate of seafood, his grin wide and dazzling. The caption read: “Dinner with the best company. ️” Comments rolled in beneath it like a tide, each one a blow:

“You two look so perfect together!”

“Couple goals ”

“Finally found someone who matches your vibe!”

I scrolled past it, only to find another post—a video of Damon and Miranda laughing at a joke, their faces so close they might as well have been one. The caption beneath it was worse: “Finding your soulmate feels like this…”

A sickening realization clawed its way to the forefront of my mind. Miranda hadn’t just replaced me in Damon’s life. She was flaunting it for the world to see—and I had a front-row seat because I’d been naive enough to accept her friend request.

Back then, Damon had spoken so highly of her when she’d returned from her long absence. “Miranda’s like family,” he’d said. “She’s been through a lot. Let’s make her feel welcome.” And I, blind and trusting, had believed him.

Now, I scrolled through her posts, each one more painful than the last. The comments were relentless, praising her beauty, their connection, their obvious chemistry. My fingers itched to type something—anything—but what could I say? That I was the one he’d promised to marry? That I was the one left standing in the snow while they lived out a fantasy?

The phone slipped from my hands onto the couch. My chest felt heavy, my breaths shallow. Each buzz of a new notification was a reminder of what I’d lost—or maybe what I’d never truly had.

I curled up on the couch, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Somewhere deep inside, a spark of anger flickered, but it was drowned by the overwhelming wave of heartbreak. Damon had given her everything he’d denied me. And now, the whole world was watching.

As I stared blankly at the ceiling, a single thought echoed through my mind: What happens now?

My chest burned as the tears I’d fought so hard to suppress finally flowed freely. The weight of the day pressed against me, sharp and unrelenting. Every moment, every betrayal played in an endless loop in my mind, slicing through me. The snow, the Instagram posts, the waiting, and the realization that I had been discarded for Miranda—they all came crashing down like an avalanche.

A sharp buzz snapped me out of my torment. My phone lit up with another notification. My fingers hesitated over the screen, trembling with a mixture of rage and anguish. I wanted to hurl the device across the room, shatter it against the wall. But instead, I opened the app and stared, numb, at the latest post Miranda had shared.

She was resting her head on Damon’s chest, her eyes closed in serene bliss while his face was angled away, as though he was sleeping. He looked peaceful, untouched by guilt or shame. The caption beneath it stung like salt on a wound:

"True love is the calm after the storm. #Blessed #HappinessFound"

I let out a bitter laugh that quickly turned into a sob. My chest heaved as I clutched the phone tighter. “Look at me,” I whispered to no one. “Sitting here, hoping he’d come back, while he’s there. With her.”

The night blurred into a fog of tears and exhaustion, and I hadn’t realized when I finally drifted off, my phone still clutched in my hand.