SHATTERED HEART: Because every love story has an ending

**Chapter 10: The Confrontation**

**Chapter 10: The Confrontation**

The sun had barely risen when Yuvan stood in the kitchen, his hands working mechanically as he prepared the meal. His movements were precise, almost robotic, as he diced the vegetables, seasoned the chicken, and set the pot to boil. It was Irish’s favorite dish, a meal they had shared countless times over the years. But today, it tasted different—bitter, poisoned by the weight of the truth he now carried.

The kitchen was filled with the rich aromas of spices and baking, but Yuvan felt none of it. His heart was numb, but his mind—his mind was a battlefield, a storm of anger, betrayal, and sadness crashing violently within him. Every part of him ached with the knowledge of what Irish had done, the betrayal that had bled into every aspect of their lives. But still, he cooked. Still, he set the table, carefully placing the plates and silverware as if everything was normal.

Because tonight, everything would change.

When Irish walked through the door later that evening, her face lit up with a smile, completely oblivious to the wreckage she had caused. "Wow, it smells amazing in here," she said brightly, setting down her bag and kicking off her shoes. She glanced at the table, her eyes widening at the sight of the cake he had baked for her. "You didn’t have to go all out, Yuvan," she said, her voice soft with affection.

Yuvan stood by the stove, his back turned to her as she spoke. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to steady himself as the sound of her voice sent waves of anger and grief crashing into him. **How could she be so calm? So unaffected?** Did she feel nothing for him anymore?

"Come here," he said quietly, turning around to face her. His voice was tight, strained with the effort to keep his emotions in check. Irish, still smiling, walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning into his embrace. Yuvan closed his eyes, willing himself not to break, not to let the storm inside him spill out. But then, as he held her, something caught his eye.

On her neck—barely visible beneath the collar of her blouse—were faint, reddish-purple marks. **Love bites.**

The room seemed to spin, and the blood drained from Yuvan’s face. His heart lurched violently in his chest as he stared at those marks, those undeniable signs of another man’s touch. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface all night surged forward, hot and suffocating, threatening to consume him entirely. **There it was—the final proof.**

She had been with Joseph. Last night. While he had waited for her, while he had sat in their home, surrounded by memories of their life together, she had been in another man’s arms. The betrayal cut deeper than anything he had ever imagined.

But instead of pushing her away, instead of yelling or demanding answers, Yuvan held her tighter. His grip around her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as the fury and sorrow inside him roared to life. He pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his, the body that had betrayed him. **The body that wasn’t his anymore.**

"I wish I could kill you," he whispered, his voice low, trembling with barely restrained rage.

Irish froze, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him in confusion, her brow furrowing. "What… what did you say?"

Yuvan’s eyes were dark, filled with a pain so deep that it was almost unbearable to look at. He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. He held her gaze, his voice shaking with the weight of everything he had held back for so long. "You’ve already killed me, Irish. And there’s nothing left."

Irish’s smile faltered, her face going pale as she took a step back, suddenly aware of the shift in his demeanor, the coldness in his words. "Yuvan… what’s going on?"