Fixing Celia

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.