His Poisoned Love, My Shattered Heart

Dale Atkins POV:

My hand moved to Jetta's collar, then hesitated. Faith. My Faith. The thought of her waiting for me at home, perhaps even forgiving me, was a sudden, cold splash of water. I couldn't betray her. Not like this.

The sudden rush of desire vanished, replaced by a wave of self-loathing. I gently set Jetta down, covering her shivering shoulders with my jacket. Her face was pale, a mask of confused disappointment. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice flat. "But Faith is my fiancée. I still love her."

I believed that. Deep down, I truly did. My mistakes, my weakness, my stupidity with Jetta – they were blips, not true betrayal. Faith's anger, her pain, was justifiable. I would return home, talk to her, make things right. We would get married, just as we planned. The image of Faith in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle, her face radiant, filled my mind. I imagined announcing our lifelong commitment to all our friends and family, a moment that would be the second happiest of my life, after Faith saying "yes."

Jetta, her face a storm of conflicting emotions, lunged forward, pressing her lips desperately against mine. "Please, Dale," she sobbed, "I've loved you for so long. I'll be your secret, your mistress, anything you want."

My voice hardened. "No," I said, pushing her away. "I have never, and will never, think of you that way. I am loyal to Faith. I am loyal to my marriage."

"But why?" Jetta cried, her voice rising. "Why do you keep thinking of her when you're with me? She doesn't deserve you! She probably cheated on you while she was abroad. She's cruel, she hurt me so many times!"

My voice dropped, cold and dangerous. "Faith is not someone you get to speak about," I snarled. I remembered punching a friend once, years ago, for daring to imply something similar about Faith. I pushed Jetta away, standing abruptly. "Faith is the most important person in my life. Yes, I was a fool, I hurt her. But you're nothing to me. Your internship is over. You'll be transferred to another hospital when we return."

I didn't look back at her tear-streaked face. I stormed out, leaving her to whatever fate awaited her.

That night, I still hadn't heard from Faith. I convinced myself she was just being stubborn, playing hard to get. I sent her a text, a playful message, telling her to pick me up at the airport tomorrow. I couldn't wait to see her.

The anticipation lasted all the way until the plane landed. I waited for two hours, scanning faces, hoping to see her. The air around me grew heavy, a storm brewing. Faith never showed.

My fists clenched around my phone, knuckles white. I dialed her number, my finger shaking. The cold, automated voice answered: "The number you have dialed is not available." She had blocked me.

The phone almost slipped from my hand. Rage, hot and desperate, surged through me, mixed with a chilling fear, a primal panic. She wasn't just mad. She was gone.

I threw myself into my car, speeding down the highway, running red lights, ignoring the blare of horns. My heart hammered against my ribs. I burst through the door of our penthouse, calling her name.

Silence. The apartment was pristine, almost sterile. Her side of the bed was untouched. No trace of her anywhere. The housekeeper, trembling, confirmed my worst fear: "She left yesterday, sir. With her luggage."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" I roared, slamming my fist against the wall, the dull thud echoing through the empty rooms. I was a caged animal, desperate and cornered.

The housekeeper, cowering, muttered, "Jetta told us not to."

Jetta. A cold, hard clarity cut through the fog of my rage. Jetta had orchestrated this.

"Find her," I commanded my assistant, my voice hoarse. "Find Faith. She's just hiding from me. She just wants me to apologize."

My assistant, looking uncomfortable, cleared his throat. "Sir, there's an email in your work account. From Faith. It's… about Jetta."

My heart leaped, a desperate flicker of hope. An email? From Faith? "Is it her new address? A surprise?" I stammered, my voice cracking.

My assistant looked even more uncomfortable. "It's… not exactly good news, sir. It's about Jetta."

My heart plummeted, the fleeting hope extinguished. From heaven to hell in an instant. My fingers, trembling, clicked open the email.