They say betrayal never comes from your enemies. I used to think that was just something people said to feel better about their broken hearts. Until mine shattered too. The night it happened, everything changed. I lost my best friend. I lost my boyfriend. But worst of all... I lost myself. It's funny how a single moment can split your life into before and after. Before, I was the girl who believed in love, in loyalty, in forever. After, I was the girl standing in the ruins of what used to be her world, gasping for air, screaming into the silence, wondering why. Why me? Why now? Why them? So, I ran. Packed what was left of me and left the pieces behind-what else could I do? I moved cities. Moved in with my cousin. I told myself I needed a break, a fresh start. I told myself I wasn't looking for anyone. I was here to rebuild, quietly, carefully. Just me and the pain that still lived under my skin. But then... I saw him. At the club. Dark suit. Brooding eyes. Hands in his pockets like the world bowed at his feet. He didn't just walk in; he owned the room. The kind of man who didn't need to speak to be heard. I didn't know his name. I didn't know his story. But I felt his eyes on me like a touch that burned. He was power. He was danger. He was everything I told myself to avoid. But as fate would have it, the man who never chased anyone... noticed the broken girl who stopped believing in love. And maybe-just maybe-he'd be the one to help me believe again. This is the story of how I broke... And how he found every shattered piece.
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