80
The sun had just begun to sink behind the rooftops, casting a golden-orange haze across the quiet street where The Quiet Brew sat. The café’s “Closed” sign hung loosely on the door, and the warm smell of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon still lingered in the air as Katherine moved about inside, locking up the pastry display and turning off the espresso machine one last time.
Outside, Carolina waited by the door, her arms crossed lightly, a cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her eyes followed Katherine fondly through the glass—graceful, steady, still carrying the weight of something unspoken.
Katherine finally turned the key in the front door and stepped outside with a long, tired exhale. “Another day, another double-shot disaster,” she joked, pulling the keychain from the lock.
Carolina smiled, falling into step beside her. “You’re still standing. That’s the win.”
As they began walking toward the subway, the early evening breeze fluttered loose strands of Katherine’s hair. The street buzzed softly—distant traffic, the clink of a restaurant patio. It could’ve been peaceful.
Until Carolina spoke.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Katherine glanced over. “Okay. What is it?”
Carolina gave her a small smile, biting her bottom lip before saying, “There’s good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”
Katherine made a face. “Ugh. Let’s start with the good. At least give me something sweet before the sting.”
Carolina’s eyes lit up. “Okay—so… Devon called me.”
Katherine’s eyes widened immediately, her tiredness lifting. “you mean your boyfriend called you?”
“Yes, my boyfriend .” Carolina giggled softly, twisting the strap of her bag. “He said he’s been missing me—like, really missing me—and he wants us to spend time together. He asked if I could come over to see him… He’s even booking the plane ticket.”
Katherine stopped in her tracks and gasped. “Oh my God! Girl! Are you kidding me? Like—this is it! Go get it!”
Carolina burst into laughter, trying to hush her. “Kat, stop!”
“No, don’t stop me! I am so happy for you,” Katherine grinned, pulling her in for a hug on the sidewalk. “Go get your man, get that healing, go get that dick! I know it’s been a whole Amazon forest down there.”
Carolina pulled back, laughing so hard she had to hold her sides. “Katherine! Shut up! You’re so stupid!”
They dissolved into more laughter as they kept walking, cheeks warm, hearts lighter. It felt like them again—young and free and talking nonsense on the street.
“Okay, okay,” Katherine said finally, wiping a joyful tear from the corner of her eye. “So what’s the bad news?”
Carolina’s smile faltered slightly. “Well… Kingsley’s kinda losing his mind.”
Katherine’s shoulders dropped.
Carolina continued gently. “He’s been calling you nonstop. Devon told me he even called him, like—full panic mode. He explained everything that happened in that live video, and honestly, Kat, there’s more to it. Kingsley really wants to talk to you. He’s not just looking for excuses… he’s trying to explain the truth.”
Katherine shook her head, lips pressed tight. “I figured there was something behind all that. But… I’m just so damn tired, Carolina. It’s always something with him. An explanation, a misunderstanding, a mistake I’m expected to understand. I mean—why can’t it just be simple? Why can’t we be like you and Devon right now? No lies. No live videos. No manipulation. Just… peace.”
“I get it,” Carolina said softly. “I really do. But you know what I see? I see a man trying not to lose the only person he really, really loves. He might have done it clumsily, but it doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Katherine didn’t answer right away. Her fingers fidgeted with her keyring. Her heart swam in confusion. A part of her still ached at the memory of that breakfast tray. And yet…
She sighed. “Okay. I’ll call him. Maybe tomorrow. Just not today. I want to go home, rest, get my mind right.”
Carolina smiled in understanding. “That’s fair. But I’m proud of you, Kat. Whatever you decide—just make sure it’s for you.”
“Thanks,” Katherine murmured.
They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, the sounds of the city fading around them. Somewhere behind the noise, Katherine’s heart was learning how to open again—but this time, on her own terms.
The grandfather clock in the grand marble foyer of the Rowe mansion struck 9:00 p.m. as Kingsley stepped out of his car and onto the polished stone walkway. The door opened before he reached it—Collins, his butler, bowing subtly as always.
“Welcome back, sir.”
Kingsley didn’t even acknowledge him this time.
His shoulders were slumped under the weight of a long, soul-draining day, his tie loosened, his steps unsteady—not from drink, but from everything else. The silence that greeted him in the cavernous mansion only made the hollow in his chest feel deeper.
Without a word, he walked past the towering staircase, ignoring the flickering sconces and oil paintings of dead ancestors staring down with judgment. His feet led him to the one place that always brought him quiet: the bar tucked into the west wing of the house.
It was a mahogany alcove of comfort, polished glass shelves holding rows of vintage wines and rare whiskies. A soft lamp lit the space in golden amber.
“Open it,” he muttered as he entered, eyes fixed on the crystal decanter holding his favorite reserve—an aged Shiraz he only ever drank after dinner.
One of the younger servants, Thomas, stood behind the bar, already moving in silence. “Yes, sir.”
The cork gave a small pop.
Thomas poured a generous measure into the curved glass, his hands steady—perhaps too steady. He slid the glass across the bar with practiced ease.
Kingsley downed it in a single motion.
He didn’t flinch. Just held out the glass again.
Another pour. Another gulp.
By the time the third was poured, his movements had slowed. His gaze had blurred at the edges. His tall frame leaned slightly forward on the bar. His heartbeat felt louder than the tick of the bar’s minimalist wall clock. Something wasn’t right—but he couldn’t place it.
His thoughts spun around Katherine. Her silence. Her absence. The way her name rang inside his mind like a distant bell underwater.
Still dizzy, he pushed away from the bar. “That’s enough…”
He staggered slightly, then steadied himself on the edge of a console. Without a word, he left the room and climbed the stairs—slowly, unevenly—heading not to the master bedroom, but to the guest room. The one he’d been sleeping in alone since Beth returned.
Ten Minutes Later
The silence was broken again by clicking heels. Beth walked into the bar with a silk robe tied loosely around her. It was crimson and sheer at the edges, revealing toned thighs and a deep neckline. Her expression was unreadable—until she reached the bar.
“Has he had the wine?” she asked Thomas.
“Yes, ma’am. He came straight in and asked for it. I poured it.”
Beth stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Did you use the one I gave you? The special vial I left in the drawer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thomas said, without hesitation. “Exactly the drops you instructed.”
She smiled coldly. “Good. Keep doing what I ask, and I’ll make sure you go far in this house… beyond this house.”
“Yes, ma. Thank you, ma.”
She handed him her phone. “Come with me.”
Together, they walked to the guest wing, where Kingsley lay on the bed—his dress shirt wrinkled, top buttons undone, one shoe still on. He was breathing evenly but deeply, in that strange, muddled sleep that comes not from exhaustion but interference.
Beth nodded toward the bed. “Help me move him.”
Between the two of them, they lifted his limp body and carried him back to the master bedroom. Beth propped him up against the pillows, smoothed down his hair, and then slipped under the covers beside him.
“Get ready,” she whispered to Thomas.
She adjusted herself, pulling her robe slightly apart, letting one leg drape over Kingsley’s. She leaned in, cheek almost against his, one arm across his chest, positioning herself as if they’d just fallen asleep in an intimate embrace.
“Now.”
The phone clicked once. Then again. And again.
“Take one from above. No—make sure you get the angle that shows my robe, but also his face. Good. Okay. A few more.”
Thomas clicked the last few shots. Beth inspected them afterward, nodding approvingly. “Perfect. They look… together.”
She waved her hand. “You can go now.”
Thomas gave a low nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Beth remained on the bed, one arm still resting possessively across Kingsley’s chest. His breathing was steady, unaware.
She scrolled through the images once more, selecting one with a slight smile on her lips and Kingsley’s face partially tilted toward hers.
With a final satisfied breath, she posted it.
Caption: Finally home. #HealingTogether #ForeverStartsHere 💍
She stared at it for a moment, then whispered to herself, “Now… when that poverty-stricken girl sees this, she’ll know Kingsley is mine. Mine alone.”
Her eyes glittered with victory.
“Let her dare to come near him again. I’ll destroy every illusion she has.”
The morning sunlight streamed gently through the gauzy curtains of Katherine’s bedroom, casting golden streaks across the wooden floor. Birds chirped just outside the open window, and somewhere down the street, a delivery truck rumbled to a stop.
Katherine sat at the edge of her bed, hair wrapped loosely in a bun, one slipper half-on, sipping her first cup of coffee. Her café apron was laid out neatly on the chair, and her phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand beside her.
Today, she was going to call Kingsley.
Or, if he called first… maybe she’d pick up.
She reached for it absentmindedly, expecting maybe a message from Carolina or a reminder for an early delivery at the café. But it wasn’t that.
Instagram Notification: “An account you once interacted with has been posted”.
Her thumb hovered for a moment, then tapped without much thought. The app opened—and then everything stopped.
Right there on her feed, under the timestamp “9 hours ago,” was Beth’s post.
Her heart gave a weird skip like it forgot how to beat for a second.
It was a carousel. Two pictures.
Katherine tapped the first one open.
And gasped.
Beth was lying across Kingsley’s bare chest in a dimly lit bedroom, draped in a dangerously sheer silk robe the color of wine. Her legs tangled over his, her cheek pressed against his as if they’d just shared a kiss. But her hand—deliberately placed—was covering the side of his face. Her fingers curled around his jaw, making it impossible to tell if his eyes were even open.
Was he awake? Was he kissing her?
Katherine zoomed in. Looked again.
Was this staged? Was this real?
Her stomach churned.
She swiped to the second photo.
This one was worse.
Beth was now straddling him from the side, but his hand was visibly resting on her lower back—placed perfectly, possessively. He was lying flat on the bed, unmoving, lips parted. His other arm was sprawled to the side. Beth, meanwhile, was looking directly into the camera, smirking. Like a queen who had won.
The caption read:
Finally home. #HealingTogether #ForeverStartsHere 💍
Katherine stared at the screen, frozen.
It took her a moment to even realize her mouth had dropped open. Her throat clenched. Her vision blurred.
Then came the anger—like fire under her skin.
“No,” she whispered. “No. She did not—”
She clutched the phone in both hands, pacing, heart thudding violently. The betrayal was too much. Too pointed. Too deliberate. Too humiliating. And what stung most was that it worked. The pictures made it look like Kingsley had never left her. Like everything at the retreat, all the vulnerability, all the confessions—they meant nothing.
“Is this why he wanted to talk to me?” she muttered bitterly. “To prepare me for this?”
She opened her message thread with him. Still unread.
She could feel it building in her—grief, disappointment, rage. It all surged at once, a dam breaking inside her chest. Her fingers shook as she opened her contacts, scrolled to Kingsley.
Pressed Edit.
Scrolled down.
Block this caller?
Block Contact.
She tapped it.
No hesitation this time.
Then she opened his Instagram.
Beth’s page
Blocked.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said aloud, to the silence in her room. “I’m done. I’m done.”
She picked up her apron, slid it over her head, and reached for her keys.
She would go to work. She would smile for customers. She would serve coffee and warmth and pretend this part of her heart hadn’t just shattered again.
But she would not look back.
Not this time.