Chapter 123 Cracks under

Chapter 123 Cracks under


Mary had been scrolling mindlessly.

A lazy flick of her thumb as afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of her living room, dust motes floating in the air like they had nowhere else to be.

She sat curled on the couch in an oversized shirt, hair loosely tied, a mug of untouched coffee growing cold on the table beside her. The television played softly in the background, some talk show she wasn’t really watching.

Then she saw his name.

Thompson.

Her thumb froze.

For a split second, she considered scrolling past it. She almost did. Pride surged up instinctively, whispering that she didn’t care anymore. That she was over him. That seven years was a long time.

But curiosity was a trait she’d never quite mastered how to kill.

She tapped.

The video loaded.

At first, it was shaky. Someone laughing behind the camera. Fairy lights glimmering through trees. A giant teddy bear holding a sign that read Don’t Panic.

Mary frowned.

“What is this nonsense?” she muttered.

Then she saw him.

Thompson.

On one knee.

Her breath caught.

The world narrowed to the screen in her hand as his voice carried through the speakers, warm, nervous, unmistakably his.

“I don’t want easy if it doesn’t have you…”

Mary felt something sharp twist in her chest.

She watched as Amelia stepped into frame…beautiful, glowing, crying as if her heart was being handled with care. She watched Thompson pull out the ring. She watched Amelia say yes through laughter and tears.

The comments scrolled beneath the video.

This is the cutest thing I’ve seen all year. They’re perfect together. Thompson really found his person. She’s so lucky.

Mary’s fingers trembled.

She replayed it.

Once.

Twice.

By the third time, her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt.

“Lucky?” she whispered bitterly. “She’s lucky?”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her heart pounded with something ugly and familiar, jealousy mixed with regret, stirred together until it tasted like acid.

She stood abruptly, pacing the room.

“This isn’t fair,” she said out loud, voice cracking. “This was supposed to be mine.”

Her phone buzzed with a notification.

Another share.

Another repost.

Another caption praising Amelia.

Mary’s grip tightened until her knuckles went white.

Seven years.

Seven years ago, she had walked away from Thompson with her head held high, convinced she was choosing better. Bigger. More exciting. She remembered telling herself he was too steady, too predictable, too safe.

She had wanted fire.

Now she watched him give that fire to someone else with tenderness, humor, and devotion and it burned her in places she didn’t know still existed.

Mary grabbed her keys.

She didn’t remember deciding to leave. She only knew she couldn’t stay in that house another second. The walls felt too close. The silence was too loud.

She slammed the door behind her.

The drive was a blur. Music played too loudly, bass vibrating through her chest as if it might drown out her thoughts. But nothing helped. The image of Thompson on one knee replayed in her mind like a cruel loop.

She pulled into a bar she hadn’t been to in years.

Neon lights buzzed overhead. The smell of alcohol and perfume hit her immediately. Laughter spilled out in bursts, careless and loud.

Perfect.

She slid onto a barstool and slapped her purse onto the counter.

“Whiskey,” she said sharply. “Neat.”

The bartender raised a brow but complied.

She downed the first glass too quickly, the burn sliding down her throat, settling in her stomach like fire.

“You’re still beautiful,” she told herself quietly. “You didn’t lose.”

“Rough day?”

The voice came from her right.

Mary didn’t look at him immediately. She’d learned that trick years ago, make them wait.

“Something like that,” she replied coolly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the man said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She finally turned.

He was handsome in an effortless way. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed casually but expensively. His smile was easy, practiced, confident without being loud.

She assessed him quickly.

Older than her by a few years. Money. Charm. The kind of man who knew how to talk.

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

He chuckled. “Do I need a reason?”

“Yes.”

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Because you look like someone who shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

Mary snorted. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re gorgeous,” he said smoothly. “And upset.”

She scoffed. “That obvious?”

“To someone who pays attention,” he replied.

She hesitated.

Then shrugged. “Fine.”

He signaled the bartender. “Whatever she’s having. On me.”

The bartender slid the glass over.

Mary lifted it slowly, studying the amber liquid.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Mary,” she said after a pause.

“I’m Daniel.”

She clinked her glass lightly against his. “Nice to meet you, Daniel.”

They drank.

The alcohol warmed her further, loosening her tongue.

“So,” Daniel said casually, “who messed up badly enough to land you here?”

Mary laughed, the sound sharp. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

She stared into her glass. “My ex got engaged today.”

Daniel winced sympathetically. “Ouch.”

“To someone else,” she added bitterly.

“Well, that’s usually how engagements work,” he joked gently.

She smiled despite herself. “He wasn’t supposed to move on.”

Daniel studied her carefully. “Sounds like he did.”

“Yes,” she snapped. “That’s the problem.”

She pulled out her phone without thinking, opening the video again. She shoved it toward him.

“That’s him,” she said. “Look at him.”

Daniel watched quietly.

“He seems… happy,” he said.

Mary’s chest tightened. “He was supposed to be miserable.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “That’s harsh.”

She laughed hollowly. “You have no idea.”

She took another drink.

“He loved me,” she said suddenly. “He would’ve done anything for me.”

“And you?” Daniel asked gently.

Mary didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Daniel leaned back slightly. “Sounds like you walked away.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually let me go,” she whispered.

There it was.

The truth she hadn’t said aloud in seven years.

Daniel was quiet for a moment, then smiled again, softer this time. “Men surprise you like that.”

Mary swallowed hard.

Daniel reached for her glass as it emptied. “Let me get you another.”

She didn’t stop him.

As the night wore on, the bar blurred into noise and light. Laughter grew louder. Mary leaned closer to Daniel, letting his compliments wash over her like balm.

“You have incredible eyes,” he told her.

She smiled weakly. “I’ve heard that before.”

“From someone who didn’t deserve them,” he replied.

Her lips curved upward despite herself.

“You’re good at this,” she said.

He chuckled. “At what?”

“Making people feel better.”

“I’m better at making them feel wanted,” he corrected.

That word struck something deep.

Wanted.

Mary laughed softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “You’re dangerous.”

He leaned closer. “Only if you want me to be.”

For the first time that night, the image of Thompson faded slightly.

They drank.

But as Mary laughed, as she leaned into the warmth of the bar and the stranger’s attention, something inside her twisted uncomfortably.