His Poisoned Love, My Shattered Heart

For three years, I flew across the Atlantic for my fiancé, Dale. He was a brilliant tech CEO who swore he'd travel to the ends of the earth for me, saving a thousand airline tickets as "proof of his love."

But when I arrived a day early to surprise him, I overheard him confessing to our friends.

"Our relationship is exhausting me, and my love for her is draining away."

His words were just the beginning. I soon discovered his affair with a young intern, Jetta. When she drugged me, sending me into anaphylactic shock, Dale' s only punishment for her was docking half a day's pay.

He then took Jetta on a lavish vacation while I recovered alone in a hospital bed, his excuse being that I had "provoked" her.

The man who once showered me with diamonds and promises now defended my attacker. His love, once my bedrock, had become a poison.

As I stood at the airport gate, I sent him one last email with proof of everything. Then, I snapped my SIM card in half and boarded a flight to Iceland, disappearing from his life for good.

Chapter 1

Faith Frazier POV:

"Our relationship is exhausting me, and my love for her is draining away."

Dale's voice, usually a warm rumble that calmed every fear, sliced through me like ice. It was low, almost a whisper, but it landed in the quiet room with the force of a bomb. I stood frozen in the hallway, my hand still reaching for the doorknob, the surprise visit I' d planned for him turning into a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

Just a few short hours ago, I felt a familiar flutter in my chest. I was on a red-eye flight, speeding across the Atlantic, eager to step off the plane and into Dale's arms. For three years, our long-distance love had been fueled by these flights, by our shared belief that distance couldn't break us. Every goodbye was a promise of a return, every return a celebration of our unwavering bond. Dale, a brilliant tech CEO, had poured his heart into our relationship, flying out to see me almost every other week, despite his grueling schedule. He made it seem effortless, a testament to his boundless love. Each visit, though fleeting, was a whirlwind of stolen moments, a frantic attempt to cram a lifetime of affection into a few days. He'd always tell me, his voice deep and sincere, that he' d travel to the ends of the earth for me, that I was worth every mile.

His gifts were legendary among my friends. Not just the lavish, jaw-dropping diamonds and designer bags, but the small, perfectly chosen tokens – a first edition of a book I mentioned once, a tiny porcelain bird from a market stall I' d admired in passing. He seemed to know my deepest desires before I even spoke them. His love felt like a constant, a bedrock of my existence. It was a love that had burned so brightly, so consistently, for three long years. I thought it was unshakable.

I had arrived in New York a day early, hoping to surprise him. My friends, who were gathered in his living room, were praising him, talking about how devoted he was, how lucky I was to have a man who never wavered. Their admiration was a sweet, familiar hum in the background, a soundtrack to my perfect life.

Then came his words. "My love is draining away."

The air left my lungs. My heart, which had been thrumming with anticipation moments before, felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. It was a pain so sharp, so sudden, it made me gasp. The world around me dimmed, the vibrant party noises of a moment ago dissolving into a dull roar. The silence that followed his confession was heavy, suffocating.

My friends stammered, trying to laugh it off, asking if he was joking. They reminded him of all his grand gestures, the constant flights, the extravagant gifts, the way he always seemed to cherish me. They rattled off examples, each one a fresh stab to my gut. Dale just looked at them, his eyes distant, his voice flat. "I don't know," he said. "I'm just so tired. These past three years… it' s been exhausting." He spoke of the lonely flights, the pressure of finding the perfect gift every time, the relentless grind of keeping a long-distance relationship alive while running a global company. "I still love her, I think," he admitted, his voice barely audible, "but it' s almost gone. It's almost all used up."

My friends exchanged nervous glances, awkwardly trying to change the subject. But their words were just background noise to the roaring in my ears. My mind went blank. I don't remember how I slipped away from the door, how I managed to find myself outside in the cool evening air. A terrifying thought flickered through my mind: would it all have been perfect if I hadn' t come home early? If I hadn' t heard him?

But there are no "ifs."

My phone buzzed in my hand, startling me. It was Dale. I saw him then, through the glass doors, searching the room, a flicker of anxiety on his face. My heart clenched again, but this time it was a mix of fear and something else, something cold. I ducked into a shadowy corner, my throat tightening, and answered the call.

"Faith? Are you back already?" His voice was hurried, laced with a concern that felt hollow now.

My nose burned, and my eyes stung, but I forced back the sob rising in my throat. "Yeah, I just decided to surprise you," I lied, my voice thin and reedy.

The tension in his brow eased. "Okay, I'm coming home then." His tone was soft, reassuring, but it felt like a trap.

Then, she burst into the room. A young woman, all big eyes and eager smiles, launched herself into Dale' s arms. My breath caught. He quickly covered the phone's mouthpiece, a tell-tale sign of his secret. His eyes, which had just been filled with concern for me, now softened with affection as he gently ruffled her hair. "Duty calls," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone I' d never heard before. "Just work stuff."

He was lying. The young woman' s cheeks were flushed, a deep, rosy red that had nothing to do with surprise. My world spun. The ground beneath me seemed to disappear, leaving me plummeting into a frozen void.