Love Like an Abyss

I shook my head softly. “I’m fine. You should have the soup first.”

Brian looked momentarily puzzled but obediently lifted the thermos, finishing the soup in one go. His amber eyes gleamed with a mixture of warmth and urgency and his lips, flushed pink from the warm broth, glistened in the soft light.

He held up the empty container with a boyish grin and said, “Finished it.”

Taking my hand, Brian led me into the private lounge connected to his office. His voice was tender, almost reverent.

“Thank you for the soup. Why don’t you take a little rest?” He coaxed me onto the large bed in the room, tucking me under the thick, luxurious comforter. Then he settled in beside me, pulling me into his arms. His chin rested lightly on the top of my head, his embrace firm and reassuring.

“Still cold?” he murmured against my hair.

I gave a faint hum of acknowledgment, closing my eyes to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. Time seemed to blur as I lay there, cocooned in his warmth. But soon, the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing told me he had fallen asleep.

The dim glow of his phone lit up on the nightstand, drawing my attention. Curiosity got the better of me. I was curious, so I fished it out of the bed and saw that it was a text from his assistant. I put the password, but it didn’t work. The password Brian set for his phone had always been either my birthday or his. I flipped the phone over, inspecting the back, but there was no sign of the dent I had left on his usual phone. This wasn’t the one he normally used.

Since neither my birthday nor his worked, I tried another combination. Maybe he had set it to our engagement day, but that turned out to be incorrect as well.

I sat frozen in frustration, unsure of what to do next. Then, Laurel’s name suddenly crossed my mind. I started testing a series of dates tied to her birthday. After several failed attempts, the phone finally unlocked.

Unconsciously, I smiled—a mix of pride and sadness washing over me. It seemed this was the phone he used to communicate with Laurel.

I glanced at a notification from his assistant. The message read: [Mr. Rocha, the transfer deed for the beachfront tower is finalized.] 

There was a file attached beneath it. I clicked on it and the owner’s name was displayed clearly—Laurel Gibbs.

I scrolled through more messages. Estate documents, deeds for mansions, limited-edition sports cars—everything pointed to an unimaginable truth. The hundreds-thousand-dollar beachfront tower was just one of countless extravagant gifts Brian had showered on Laurel.

The earliest record was a will. It says that after his death, all of his inheritance would go to Laurel.

The screen dimmed after being idle for too long and in the sudden reflection, I saw my own lifeless eyes and tear-streaked, reddened nose staring back at me.

I was a renowned financial planner, celebrated in my field. Yet here I was, blindsided by a truth that should have been obvious. I had been managing Brian’s wealth for years, yet I had no idea that the majority of it was siphoned off to someone else. It was as if my reflection was laughing at me.

Then, a detail in the messages caught my eye: a photo of a certificate for an engagement ring.

I froze.

It was the same ring I had fallen in love with when we were picking out wedding bands. Back then, Brian had dismissed it with a strained smile.

“My wife-to-be deserves something bigger, something flashier. This one is too plain,” he’d said.

The store clerks had gushed about how lucky I was to have such a generous fiancé. Wanting to make him happy, I chose another ring—a more extravagant one—even though my heart was set on the simpler design.

Three days ago, Laurel had posted a live photo on her social media feed. No caption. But in the image, there it was—the understated ring on her finger.

I played the audio embedded in the live photo, my hands trembling. The noise of the crowd nearly drowned out the voices, but Brian’s words rang clear as day:

“I knew you’d love it.”

The realization hit me like a freight train. It was just an excuse. He didn’t want it for me because he wanted to give it to her.

My fingers clenched around the phone, my nails digging into my palm as my chest heaved with silent sobs. When I finally looked down, my knuckles were white and the phone screen was dim again.

Returning it to the nightstand, I made my decision.

By tomorrow, I would be gone. I booked a one-way ticket to Dubai on my phone, ensuring my exit from Brian’s carefully constructed world.

The next morning, Brian had already left.

His secretary entered the room, carrying a tray with toiletries and a polite smile.

“Good morning, Miss Duncan. Mr. Rocha left last night. He had an urgent business trip. He also asked me to inform you that the engagement party will be postponed for two days.”

I nodded absently, staring out the window as the sun rose over the city. Two days. He wouldn’t find me by then. By the time he returned, I would be gone. Vanished from his world forever.