As I approached a dimly lit café, I spotted him inside, laughing with someone I didn’t recognize.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched their closeness, a chill running down my spine. It felt like a nightmare come to life.

Instead of confronting him right then, an unsettling calm washed over me. I needed to gather my strength, to face him on my own terms.

Days later, I confronted him, the tension crackling in the air. “I saw you at the café,” I said, my voice steady but filled with fury. He paled, stammering as he tried to deny it, but I could see the truth in his eyes.

“What is it then? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I demanded, anger coursing through me like poison.

“It was a mistake,” he whispered, fear flickering across his face.

In that moment, I felt a dark power rise within me. “You don’t get to decide what’s a mistake. I deserve better than this.”

With that, I turned away, the weight of betrayal heavy on my shoulders, ready to embrace a future where I would never be a victim again.