Mia
I barely slept that night.
By morning, I was staring at the ceiling, Owen’s arm draped across me. He looked peaceful, like he hadn’t just promised to leave his fiancée after one more board meeting. Like nothing was wrong.
“Thursday,” I whispered to myself.
I repeated it again at lunch after I'd left his condo.
Then, at 8 p.m. when I checked the company’s social feed, I froze.
There they were —Owen and Stacy. Smiling, dressed impeccably, walking into a charity gala together like the perfect couple. Photographers everywhere. Her arm linked with his. His hand on her back. Her lips on his cheek.
I blinked and reloaded the page. It wasn’t a mistake. It was real.
I stared at the headline: 'Carter & Whitmore: The Power Couple Still Going Strong.'
I couldn’t breathe. I shut my laptop,
