Mia stepped into her apartment, the door clicking shut behind her. The familiar surroundings offered little comfort. She dropped her bag by the entrance and sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the wall. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, guilt, and regret. The events of the wellness weekend played in her mind like a fragmented film—moments of laughter, the warmth of the bonfire, and then the haze of intoxication leading to a night she couldn't fully recall.
She pressed her palms against her face, trying to block out the spiraling thoughts. She had always been cautious, always in control. But that night had undone her. Something about the mix of alcohol, emotions, and the dim glow of the fire had pulled her into a storm she hadn't seen coming. Her body remembered—flashes of hands, breathless moans, tangled sheets—but her heart felt numb.
She tried to piece together the fragments, but the details were elusive. She remembered James helping her to her room, the gentle kiss on her forehead. And then—nothing clear. Only feelings. Panic had gripped her the next morning when she woke up beside him, naked. She had screamed, recoiled, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. James had tried to soothe her, saying they had shared something beautiful. But Mia wasn't sure. It didn't feel beautiful—it felt like a betrayal.
Unable to face the world, Mia called in sick to work. Thankfully, she had saved up her leave days for emergencies. She drew the curtains shut and turned off her phone. Her world became quiet and gray. No light, no laughter, no Mark.
She couldn't even bring herself to speak to him. Every time she pictured his face—so kind, so full of love—it felt like knives slicing through her chest. How could she look him in the eye, knowing what she'd done?
James tried contacting her several times a day. Messages stacked up: "Are you okay?" "Please talk to me." "I miss you."
Eventually, Mia replied with a single sentence: Don't try to contact me. Please, just give me a break.
The silence that followed was both a relief and a reminder. She had made a mistake. A huge, life-altering mistake.
Weeks passed. Her apartment became her shelter, her prison. She didn't eat much. She didn't sleep well. The guilt was suffocating.
But one morning, she opened her curtains and let the sunlight in. Something inside her whispered that it was time to face what she had broken. She took a long shower, did her hair, put on real clothes, and texted Mark.
Mia:Can we have dinner tonight? I want to talk.
Mark:Yes. Anytime. I've missed you.
They met at a quiet restaurant. Mark was already there, waiting at a corner booth. His face lit up when he saw her, his smile warm, hopeful. Mia forced a small smile in return, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
They sat down, exchanged awkward small talk. Mark talked about work, about a new project he was excited about. Mia nodded along, but she barely heard him. Her thoughts were consumed by the words she had to say.
After the meal arrived, Mia set her fork down and took a deep breath.
"Mark," she said quietly, "I need to tell you something. And it's… it's going to hurt."
Mark frowned, instantly alert. "Okay. I'm listening."
She looked down at her hands. "During the wellness weekend, something happened. I was drunk. I… I slept with someone else."
Mark stared at her, stunned. His expression collapsed, as though the ground had given way beneath him.
"I didn't plan it," she continued quickly. "I don't even remember it fully. But it happened, and I'm so, so sorry."
He was silent for a long time. The clatter of plates and muffled laughter from other tables felt like a cruel backdrop to the devastation between them.
"Who?" he asked, voice raw.
"I don't want to talk about that. It's not about him. It's about me. I messed up. And you don't deserve someone who would do that to you."
"So that's it?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're ending us over a mistake?"
"It wasn't just a mistake," Mia said, tears in her eyes. "It was a betrayal. And I hate myself for it. I love you, Mark. But I can't keep pretending everything's fine when I've broken something so sacred between us."
He leaned back, disbelief etched on his face. "I waited for you. I hoped you'd come back to me. And now that you do, it's to break up?"
"I think it's the right thing to do. For both of us."
Mark gripped the edge of the table. "But I love you. We can work through this. Was it someone you care about? Were there feelings?"
Mia shook her head, unwilling to explain. "It wasn't about love. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have."
She stood up, her legs shaky. "Goodbye, Mark."
Mark watched her walk away, his heart thudding dully in his chest. The woman he loved was slipping through his fingers.
Outside, Mia walked to her car and broke down. Her sobs echoed in the night, the pain of what she'd done and what she'd lost crashing over her.
Back in the restaurant, Mark sat for a long time, numb. Eventually, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through Mia's social media. Photos, posts, tags. He was looking for something—anything—that might explain why this had happened. Who the other man was. What had led her to this.
There was one particular guy who kept liking and commenting on her posts. He's also the guy that seemed closer to Mia on the pictures their group posted about the wellness weekend. He checked the guy's social media profile, and found that the guy already added him as a friend a few months' back. Mark is your typical guy who would just accept friend requests from anyone as long as it didn't hurt. There was something about this guy that is he is now looking on the screen.
He wasn't ready to give up. Something in her eyes that night told him this wasn't just her fault. She looked haunted. As though something had happened that she couldn't process.
He would find out the truth. And he would fight to get her back.