img My Ex-Fiancé Stole My Dreams  /  Chapter 4 | 16.67%
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Chapter 4

Word Count: 1167    |    Released on: Today at 13:51

ment within the firm's compound, meant for visiting consultants or new hires on a short-term basis. It was a stark contra

t-shirt, a worn copy of a classic novel, a few cherished photos. Everything else felt like an echo of a life tha

s slid open, and there they were. Declan, impeccably dressed, a faint frown on his face. And Kisha, radiant in a designe

smile on her lips. "What are you doing here? Still here, actually! I thought you'd be settled into your new p

as sharp, unwelcoming. I didn't want her pity, her feigned concern. I didn't want her anywhere

Kisha, his voice neutral. He looked at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before he shifted the bag to

hivalrous! Why didn't you help me with my luggage last night? That'

softening, a genuine warmth in his eyes that I had once longed for. "You know you're perfectly capable, Kisha. And

t me a lukewarm cup of tea, set it on my desk, and simply said, "Don't let it affect your work, Cayla." No warmth, no playful banter, just a cold command. The raw contrast between his past indifference to me and his current att

eld my duffel bag, a strange, awkward gesture of assistance. "Didn't you tell me the condo was for sale? Where are you

said, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion. I watched his face for a rea

t, really." He nodded, as if discussing a property acquisition, not the dissolution of our shared life. He didn't as

ger? Concern? A question about us? But not this. Not this utter, complete indifference. He didn't care. Not about the home we built,

m starving. And I need you to look at those new design sketches I did for the park. You

tug won out. He dropped my bag unceremoniously at my feet, a small puff of dust rising from the scuffed canvas. "I'll see you around, Cay

ound. My hands trembled, not from cold, but from a profound sense of humiliation and worthlessness. I had given him ten years. Ten year

ence, my love, my very being, reduced to a calculable asset, easily liquidated. He hadn't seen me. Not truly. He had

My throat constricted, a knot of sorrow and righteous anger. He had taken so much. Everything. And now, he had taken my very sense of self. He had diminished me, reduced me

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