78
It was late morning by the time sunlight filtered through Carolina’s cozy apartment in Brooklyn, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Birds chirped softly beyond the windowpanes, and the smell of lavender-scented cleaning spray lingered in the air.
Carolina was already up, dressed in leggings and an oversized tee, her hair twisted into a messy bun. She hummed absently as she moved around the living room, straightening magazines, fluffing the couch pillows, and occasionally glancing toward the closed guest room door where Katherine still slept.
Movie night had ended in a tangle of blankets, popcorn bowls, and two half-empty wine glasses. The television had long gone dark, but the memory of their conversation still echoed in Carolina’s mind—Katherine’s worry, her confusion, the pain flickering in her voice when she talked about Kingsley. About the vow renewal announcement. About not knowing what to believe anymore.
As Carolina reached for the coffee mug she’d left by the windowsill, something nudged her—an itch of curiosity.
Katherine said she saw the post on Beth’s page…
She grabbed her phone and opened Instagram.
A familiar flood of filtered perfection greeted her on Beth’s profile—pink-hued aesthetic, high-saturation highlights, and captions that dripped with sugar.
Then her thumb froze.
Beth Rowe is Live.
The blinking red icon hovered at the top of the page.
Curious—and a little uneasy—Carolina tapped it.
The screen loaded in a blur, and suddenly Beth’s flawless face filled the frame, walking down a hallway with a polished wooden tray in her hands. Her voice was bright, giddy, the kind of chirpy tone reserved for baby showers and influencer hauls.
“Okay, guys,” Beth whispered into the camera, “I told you I was going to do it! Here I am bringing my hubby breakfast in bed. I’m so excited. He’s going to be so surprised.”
Carolina’s stomach dropped.
She dropped the coffee mug onto the couch and bolted down the hall.
“Katherine!” she called, pushing open the door. “Katherine, wake up! Wake up right now!”
Katherine groaned, tangled in a blanket, her face pressed into a throw pillow. “Wha—what’s happening?”
Carolina didn’t wait for a full sentence. “You need to see this—right now.”
She held up her phone, the livestream still going. Katherine blinked as her eyes adjusted, then widened in confusion.
Beth had just entered a softly lit guest room, still live, tray in hand.
The scene was clear.
Kingsley was sitting up in bed, his hair tousled as if freshly woken, wearing the same pajama shirt Katherine had seen him in before. His expression was unreadable on camera, but he didn’t move. He just watched Beth approach.
“Baby,” Beth cooed, still filming. “I made this for you. I plated it all myself. I just wanted to thank you for loving me the way you do… like I’m the only woman in the world.”
Katherine sat up fully now, stunned and silent.
Beth gently set the tray down beside Kingsley, angling the camera just right to catch his face, the breakfast, the perfect symmetry of the moment.
“And thank you,” she continued, “for the vow renewal. It meant so much to me. Just knowing you wanted to make that public statement of love again—it makes me feel so safe, so wanted.”
Carolina glanced sideways at Katherine.
Kingsley looked at the tray, nodded once, and picked up the golden teacup.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “This is… nice.”
Then, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he bit into the croissant.
The comments flooded in beneath the video:
@the_boujee_wife: omg #breakfastgoals
@wifeyclubxo: he’s literally perfect 😭😭😭
@kingsleyrowe_fanpage: THE VOW RENEWAL I’M SOBBING
@paris_love_affair: this man is in love ❤️❤️❤️
Katherine’s breath caught in her throat.
“He’s smiling,” she whispered. “He’s smiling.”
Carolina reached out to place a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Katherine…”
Katherine stood up, her heart pounding, her voice suddenly sharp.
“He said he was going to stop this. He promised me he would shut all this down. That he wasn’t behind the post. He said he wasn’t going to be part of it.”
“Katherine—” Carolina tried to calm her.
“No.” Her voice trembled now. “Do you see him? He’s there. He’s in bed with her. He’s eating the breakfast. He’s playing along. And she—she’s thanking him for loving her?”
Katherine’s chest ached. “I feel like a fool.”
Carolina quietly turned off the video and locked her phone.
“I don’t know what that was,” she said gently. “But I know what I’ve seen in Kingsley since the retreat. I know how hard he’s tried to earn your trust back.”
“Well, this doesn’t look like trying,” Katherine snapped, then sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. “It looks like he’s already chosen.”
Carolina wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I think you need to talk to him. Let him explain. Because right now you’re only seeing the version Beth wants the world to see.”
Katherine didn’t respond.
And outside, the sun rose higher over Manhattan, bathing the city in light—even as one woman sat in the dark, trying to untangle what was real… and what was just another scene for the show.
Meanwhile, in Manhattan, The phone screen dimmed, and the livestream ended.
Beth smiled with satisfaction as she carefully placed her phone down on the dresser, her glossy lips curved into the kind of smile that belonged on magazine covers—polished, triumphant, perfectly hollow.
She turned back to Kingsley, who still sat in the bed with the untouched bowl of fruit in front of him and the croissant he could no longer taste wedged between his fingers.
“Well,” Beth said brightly, brushing her long curls back from her shoulders, “that went even better than I imagined.”
Kingsley blinked, as though surfacing from a deep underwater haze. “Better?” he echoed numbly.
Beth grinned wider. “Over eight hundred thousand people were on that livestream, baby. Eight hundred thousand. Do you understand what that means? The numbers are insane. And the engagement rate—it’s through the roof. I already saw people reposting the breakfast scene on their stories. It’s iconic.”
Kingsley didn’t respond.
Beth picked up the tiny rose vase from the tray, spun it in her fingers, and then set it back down.
“You made the right decision,” she added, with the casual finality of someone confirming the weather. “Now, all we need to do is prepare for the vow renewal ceremony. You know—get the right venue, something tasteful, maybe hire that orchestra your mom likes. And we’ll go full PR mode. You’ve already let the world know I’m your everything again, so let’s ride the wave.”
She leaned down, kissed the top of his head gently—like a reward—and added with a sweet lilt, “The least you can do now is forget whatever silly divorce fantasy you were having. Let’s get married again. Let’s get richer. Let’s keep the brand alive. Okay, baby?”
And with that, she turned on her heels, humming a tune as she walked out of the room in her silk robe, leaving the scent of expensive perfume hanging in the air like smoke.
The door clicked shut behind her.
And for a long time, Kingsley didn’t move.
He sat there in the bed, surrounded by golden teacups and curated aesthetics, and felt like a prisoner inside a glass box labeled Happiness.
He had done it.
He had smiled. He had eaten the croissant. He had nodded on camera and accepted the breakfast like a man content with his life.
And now it would spread. Millions of people around the world would see it. Investors would breathe easier. The board would be relieved. His father would be smug. Beth would gain more followers. And the company stock would soar.
But none of it felt like a victory.
Kingsley felt hollow. Worse—ashamed.
Ashamed that he hadn’t said what he wanted to say. Ashamed that he’d let himself be used as a prop in Beth’s influencer theater. Ashamed that somewhere out there, Katherine might have seen the whole thing and believed every second of it.
She probably thinks I never meant a word I said to her.
He rubbed his face, angry with himself, nauseated at the thought that Katherine might have woken up to Beth’s voice calling him baby and thanking him for renewing their love.
And now, the damage was done.
But no—he couldn’t let this be the story Katherine walked away with. He had to reach her. Now.
Kingsley grabbed his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it with trembling fingers. He opened his contacts and pressed Katherine before his mind could tell him not to.
He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the glowing name on his screen: Katherine.
He pressed the call button again.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three.
Voicemail.
He ended the call, clenched the phone in his hand, and immediately dialed again. The line connected rang once—and again went unanswered. He tried a third time, then a fourth. Still nothing. By the fifth call, his hand trembled with helpless frustration.
She wasn’t picking up.
He dropped the phone beside him, exhaled sharply, and rubbed his hands over his face. Maybe she was still asleep. Maybe she didn’t see the live stream. Maybe—
No. She had seen it.
His gut told him everything he needed to know. The silence wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate.
She was hurt. Again. And this time, maybe for good.
Kingsley sat frozen in that moment, grief churning beneath his skin. He had lost so much already. And now, he could feel Katherine slipping through his fingers—just like she did the first time, only now it was worse.
Because this time, he had made her believe.
And still managed to break her heart.
Meanwhile, in Brooklyn, Sunlight spilled into Carolina’s cozy living room through gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows across the floor. The scent of fresh lemons from a recently cleaned countertop still lingered in the air.
Carolina padded into the room, holding a half-dried mug in her hand.
On the couch, Katherine sat with her legs folded beneath her, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow. Her face was pale, but her eyes were dry now—clear, still, but distant.
“You’re not going to pick up?” Carolina asked gently as she sat down beside her.
Katherine didn’t respond at first.
Her phone lay face-down on the coffee table, buzzing once again with Kingsley’s name on the screen. She stared at it blankly until it fell silent.
Carolina turned slightly toward her, lowering her voice. “That’s the fifth time he’s called, Kat.”
“I know,” Katherine said quietly.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
Katherine drew a slow breath, her voice tight. “Because I just… I don’t want to hear any of it right now. I don’t want another excuse, another explanation that ends with me forgiving him and pretending it didn’t hurt.”
Carolina was silent, listening.
“I’m tired of understanding him,” Katherine went on, her voice breaking slightly at the edges. “Tired of being the one who waits for him to figure out what he wants. Every single time I start to let my guard down, something new just slams into me.”
She glanced down at the phone again, the silence between them filling with all the words she wasn’t ready to speak.
“I just don’t want to talk to him right now,” she whispered. “I need space. Let him do whatever he wants. I don’t even know if he knows what he wants. Maybe he does… and maybe it’s not me.”
Carolina leaned closer and reached for her hand.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to figure it out today. Just take your time. Answer him when you’re ready—if you even want to. You’re allowed to protect your heart, Katherine.”
Katherine nodded, her gaze locked on the still phone screen. “I just… I thought this time was different.”
Carolina squeezed her hand. “Maybe it still is. But it’s okay if you’re not sure yet.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, two women suspended in the slow ache of hope and hesitation. Outside, the morning carried on—birds chirped in the distance, a car drove past, the city woke up again.
But inside the apartment, everything felt quieter. Heavier.
Katherine didn’t move.
And the phone didn’t ring again.
Not yet.