Broken By Him, Now He's On His Knees

Luciana's POV The engine purred, then died, as I pulled the car to a stop in front of the two-story house. A smile, unbidden, stretched across my lips as my gaze swept over its facade. In my hand, a package—a cake, a sweet confection I knew he'd adore. It was his birthday, a day I'd planned to punctuate with a surprise party. Earlier, he'd called, asking if I'd join him for his birthday. I'd spun a tale, a fabricated night of "drinking with friends," all to preserve this moment. My steps ascended the spiral stairs, each turn a journey further into my memories. I was lost in the echo of our first meeting, a time when I’d fled to Paris, seeking refuge from the gnawing sorrow of my mother's sudden death. Nyra, a friend, had been the conduit, introducing both of us to each other. A debt of gratitude, I would forever owed to her. She had gifted me a reason to breathe again. After my mother's demise, happiness felt like a forgotten language, but Michael, he had reminded me of hope. "As long as there's life, there's hope," I’d whispered to myself since that day. Michael, an orphan, struggled to fend for himself. But I had what he lacked: money. I’d embraced the responsibility, sponsoring him, providing his every want and need. I liked it that way. Reaching his door, I drew a deep breath. My heart hammered, a frantic beat against my ribs, and my palms grew slick. An inexplicable anxiety gripped me. Was it the thrill of the surprise, the imminent declaration of my love? Or something else entirely? Ignoring the unsettling tremor, my hand reached for the handle. Just as my fingers brushed the cool metal, preparing to twist, a strange voice stopped me cold. My muscles tensed. What was happening? I strained to listen, then a gasp hitched in my throat as the sound solidified: a moan. An anxious chuckle escaped me, a bewildered sound swallowed by the sudden rush of confusion and curiosity. My trembling hands finally twisted the handle. The door swung open, revealing... nothing immediately. I was frozen to my feet, rooted to the spot, unsure of what lay beyond. Gathering every shard of courage, I stepped inside. Another step, then another, deeper into the room. I stopped short. And saw as clothes, scattered like fallen leaves, littered the floor. My gaze lifted, my eyes locking onto two familiar figures, clinging to each other on the bed like leeches. My heart seized, my lungs momentarily paralyzed, refusing to draw breath. My eyes widened, a silent scream trapped behind my lips. I stood, still as a corpse, staring dazedly at the figures on the bed—my boyfriend and my friend, kissing. The cake package slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Their heads snapped towards me, eyes wide. They recoiled from each other as if stung, as if the touch itself were venomous. "What…" My voice cracked, my mind struggling to process the impossible tableau. "Luciana," Michael called, scrambling off the bed and moving towards me. "It's not what you think. Honestly, we weren't doing anything you think." I swallowed hard, the scene refusing to coalesce into understanding. "How... How could you do this to me, Michael?" I demanded, a sob tearing through my voice, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Luciana, just listen to me, okay? I swear I will explain everything to you." He reached for me, but I flinched, recoiling from his touch. "Why you decide to do this to me. I thought you love me?" My voice was a brittle whisper. He pressed a hand to his temple, as if already distressed, then straightened. "I told you. I can explain. I swear." "No," I shook my head. "There's nothing to explain, what I've seen is already enough." I turned to leave, then stopped, my gaze shifting to Nyra. "I can't believe you could do this to me," I mumbled, my voice cracking. Yet, her eyes held no remorse, her face held a blank mask. "Luciana, please give me a chance to explain myself. It's just a mistake..." Before he could finish, I turned and fled his room. "Just let her go, she's not that worth it, does she?" Nyra's voice, laced with disdain, floated after me, eliciting a sharp scoff from my lips. "You don't understand, she holds the key to my life. She's the one sponsoring me and you know that. You caused all this." He shouted at her, but their argument held no interest for me. I stumbled back to my car, locking myself inside. The tears I’d fought to hold back now streamed down my cheeks like a relentless river. I couldn't believe my foolishness, believing I had found people who truly cared, who loved me for who I was. I was nothing to them, just a pawn, a fool who provided whatever they desired. The tears kept falling, my chest heaving, my heart sinking. I covered my face with my hands, a crushing wave of sadness washing over me, amplifying the torrent of tears. After a few moments of raw grief, I finally composed myself. I wouldn't waste another ounce of energy on them. I slid the key into the ignition, about to start the engine, when my phone buzzed. I picked it up and saw a message from my father. "Come back now, or else I would have my boys dragging you from there." A sigh escaped my lips. My father, the Mafia don, had been relentless in his attempts to persuade me to return home, to take my place, to lead his legacy. But I wasn't ready. My mother had died because of that life. I wasn't ready to put my own life on the line. I tossed the phone back onto the seat. I needed to clear my head. These "f*****g animals" wouldn't ruin my mood. I was a party maniac, and partying was all I knew. I needed a drink, a distraction. L ife, after all, went on.