Magnetic Hearts

A Bitter Surprise

Chris sat on the plane, her heart pounding as she clutched the small bouquet of lilies she'd bought for Franco. She had made up her mind. Natalia's words had echoed in her head ever since their conversation, and she knew she had to stop running. It was time to face everything she'd feared, starting with Franco.

The plan was simple: surprise him at his house, say everything she had been too scared to admit and tell him how much she missed him. No more hiding, no more walls. She was going to lay it all out on the table and fight for them—for what they could have together.

Her stomach churned with a mix of excitement and nerves. What if he didn't want her anymore? What if she was too late? But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the one thing she knew for sure—she had to try.

---

When Chris arrived in Monaco, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city. She felt a lump forming in her throat as she stepped into a taxi, her fingers trembling slightly as she gave the driver Franco's address.

The drive felt like a blur, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She imagined Franco's face when he saw her, the look of surprise turning into relief. She could almost hear his voice, soft and filled with emotion as he pulled her into his arms.

But as the taxi pulled up to Franco's house, something inside her began to shift. Her nerves, which had been humming under the surface, turned into something darker. Anxiety crept up her spine, cold and unsettling. She shook it off, reminding herself why she was there.

The bouquet in her hand felt heavier as she climbed the steps to his front door, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would burst out of her chest. 

She knocked.

---

The door opened, and there he was—Franco. His eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting her. He looked almost exactly as she remembered—tall, tousled hair, those green eyes that had always seemed to see right through her. But something was off.

"Chris?" His voice was low, uncertain.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Surprise," she said, forcing a smile, and holding up the flowers. "I... I came to talk. I needed to see you."

For a moment, Franco didn't say anything. His eyes flickered with something—panic? Guilt? He stepped aside, letting her in, but his movements were tense.

Chris walked inside, the familiar scent of his home washing over her. But something else caught her attention—a different scent. 

A woman's perfume, sweet and floral, lingering in the air.

Her heart sank as she looked around, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of someone else.

Everything looked normal, but the perfume—it wasn't hers. And it wasn't subtle. Her stomach twisted.

Chris turned to Franco, her chest tightening as she met his eyes. "Are you... alone?"

Franco hesitated, just for a second, but that second was enough. He shifted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah... yeah, I'm alone. Why wouldn't I be?"

The air between them grew thick with tension. Chris wanted to believe him, but something was wrong. The perfume, the way he seemed on edge—it all pointed to one thing.

She took a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Franco... whose perfume is that?"

His face paled, and for a moment, the truth was written all over him. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Panic flickered in his eyes, and he quickly turned his back to her, as if that could hide the truth.

Chris's heart plummeted. "You're not alone," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Who's here, Franco?"

Silence. It was deafening.

She took a step back, her mind spinning, trying to process what was happening. All the hope, all the love she had come here to share, was slipping through her fingers like sand.

"You said you loved me," Chris said, her voice cracking. "Was that all a lie?"

Franco turned around, his eyes filled with something she couldn't place—guilt, regret, maybe even shame. "Chris... it's not what you think."

Her chest ached, and the lilies in her hand suddenly felt ridiculous, a symbol of the hope she had been so desperate to hold onto. She dropped them on the floor, the flowers scattering as her heart shattered.

"Then tell me what it is," she said, her voice barely holding steady.

Franco ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I... I didn't expect you. I wasn't ready for this—"

"Who is she?" Chris cut him off, her voice sharp now, the pain turning into something else. Anger.

"Tell me the truth, Franco."

For a moment, he was silent, and then— "She doesn't mean anything to me."

Chris froze. The words hung in the air, cold and empty. She couldn't breathe.

She turned away from him, walking towards the door, her heart pounding in her ears. Every step felt heavier than the last.

"Chris, wait—"

But she didn't stop. She couldn't.

All she knew was that everything she had feared had come true. Franco had betrayed her, and now, there was no going back.