Mia Carter never thought her life could shatter in a single moment — until it did.
The world around her had once been steady, predictable even. She had a loving boyfriend, Ryan, and a best friend, Samantha, who knew every secret, every dream Mia had ever whispered. They were her anchor — or so she thought.
Until tonight.
Mia stood frozen in the doorway of Ryan's apartment, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. The sight before her would be etched into her memory forever — Ryan, shirtless, his hair a tousled mess, standing too close to Samantha, who was wrapped in nothing but the bedsheet.
Her best friend.
Her boyfriend.
Together.
Mia's throat tightened, but no words came out. The betrayal was so sharp, so sudden, it stole the air from her lungs.
Ryan's eyes went wide with shock, but it wasn't guilt that flickered across his face — it was annoyance, like she was the one who had just ruined their night.
"Mia," he said, his voice a poor attempt at sounding remorseful. "This isn't what it looks like."
Samantha didn't bother to hide her smirk. "Actually," she purred, "it's exactly what it looks like."
Mia felt her stomach twist. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she refused to break — not in front of them.
"How long?" she asked softly, her voice hoarse.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. "Does it matter?"
Her heart cracked. "How long, Ryan?"
Samantha leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Six months."
Six. Months.
Mia's vision blurred.
Half a year — while she had been planning their future, talking about marriage, thinking of ways to make their lives better — they had been laughing behind her back.
"Mia," Ryan sighed. "I didn't want you to find out this way."
She let out a hollow laugh. "Oh? So how exactly did you want me to find out? Over dinner? Or maybe at our anniversary?"
His silence cut deeper than the betrayal itself.
Samantha spoke again, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. "You were always so busy with work, Mia. Honestly, Ryan deserves someone who actually makes time for him."
And there it was — the knife, twisted.
Mia took a shaky step back, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I hope you both are very happy together," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "You deserve each other."
Without another word, she turned and walked out — out of the apartment, out of their lives — and into the cold night.
The air bit at her skin, but the pain inside her was so much worse. She didn't know where she was going — her legs just carried her forward.
Block after block, the city lights blurred as hot tears streamed down her face.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket — Lily.
Her sister. The one person who always had her back.
But Mia couldn't answer. Not yet.
She wandered into a quiet bar on the corner of a street she didn't recognize — a dimly lit place with soft music and a half-empty crowd. It was the perfect kind of bar for someone who wanted to drown their heartbreak without the world watching.
Sliding onto a stool, Mia ordered a drink — something strong, something that would numb the ache in her chest.
Her fingers curled around the glass, and for the first time since she had walked in on Ryan and Samantha, the weight of everything hit her.
She had lost not just a boyfriend, but her best friend.
She had lost the life she thought she was building.
And now, all she had was the emptiness in her chest and the sting of betrayal in her heart.
"Rough night?" a deep voice asked from beside her.
Mia blinked back her tears and turned to the stranger sitting one seat away.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just a little too perfectly into place. His suit was expensive — sleek, tailored — but his tie was loosened, and there was a shadow of stubble along his jaw.
His eyes — dark and intense — studied her with a quiet sort of curiosity.
Mia didn't answer right away. She didn't owe this stranger anything.
But something about him — the way he didn't push, didn't pry — made her want to speak.
"Rough doesn't even begin to cover it," she finally muttered, taking another sip of her drink.
He smirked — not mocking, just… understanding.
"Well," he said, raising his glass in a quiet toast. "To rough nights."
Mia found herself lifting her glass to meet his.
"To rough nights," she whispered.
And just like that, in the middle of her heartbreak, a new chapter of her life quietly began — with a stranger whose name she didn't yet know…