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Chapter 1 Guy-Bestie? Ex-Boyfriend?
"Honey, Xavier Moore's my guy-bestie, he's sick, and I gotta go take care of him! I might not be back tonight, don't wait up!"

The stark glow of fluorescent lights filled the hospital room as Darren Shaw reread the text from his wife, Ava Nancy. It had arrived five hours ago, but the bitterness in his mouth felt as fresh as ever.

Tonight was their fifth wedding anniversary. Darren had planned everything—a reservation at an upscale restaurant, a private table with a stunning view, and a surprise party with their closest friends. Two hours they waited. Two excruciating hours of awkward laughter, forced smiles, and Darren's increasingly desperate calls to Ava, none of which she answered. When it became unbearable, he dismissed the guests, apologizing profusely for a situation he couldn't explain. Only after everyone had left did her message finally appear.

It wasn't just frustration Darren felt—it was devastation. This wasn't the first time Ava had canceled plans because of Xavier Moore. No, it was the fourth time this month.

The excuses were always colorful. The first time, Xavier had a business crisis, and Ava rushed to help him. The second, Xavier got into a bar fight after a breakup, and she bailed him out of jail. The third? Xavier lost a truth-or-dare game and needed her to save him from some juvenile prank. Each incident felt more absurd than the last, but tonight's excuse—Xavier being "sick"—was the final blow.

For years, Darren had dismissed these intrusions. He trusted Ava. But tonight, her best friend, Chloe, had let something slip, a truth that cut deeper than any lie.

Xavier wasn't just Ava's "bestie." He was her college boyfriend—the man she'd spent four years loving before their relationship ended when he left for grad school overseas. Darren had been the rebound, the one who picked up her broken pieces, the man who fell in love with her laughter and fire. He thought he had been enough.

What Ava didn't know was that Darren wasn't just some average Joe. His mother was a financial powerhouse who had arranged a marriage for him years ago. But to be with Ava, Darren had severed ties with his family, losing their financial support. He hadn't regretted it—not for a single moment. For five years, he had been happy.

Even when Ava's impulsiveness had cost him his job, forcing him to become her chauffeur and stay-at-home husband. Even when her father, a proud and wealthy man, treated him like dirt, belittling and undermining him at every turn. Darren endured it all with quiet determination, as long as Ava was happy.

Their relationship had been steady, even harmonious—until a month ago, when Xavier returned. Ava had personally picked him up from the airport. That night, she came home drunk, crying in her room for hours while Darren waited helplessly outside. That was the first and only time Darren had ever met Xavier, a man with the looks of a movie star—Ava had always said he was the heartthrob back on campus, but Darren had brushed it off, thinking it irrelevant.

But it wasn't irrelevant. It never had been.

After the disastrous anniversary dinner, Darren got Xavier's number from a mutual acquaintance. He had tried calling Ava first, but her phone was off. When he finally reached Xavier, the man casually informed him that Ava was showering and would be spending the night."Don't worry," Xavier added.

Darren exploded. He screamed at Xavier, calling him a homewrecker. Xavier's response was cold and cutting:"The one who isn't loved is the homewrecker!" Then he hung up.

Darren felt like his world unraveling. Frantic, he tried to find Ava but ended up in a minor car accident. He was taken to the hospital with a twisted ankle and some scrapes—minor injuries, but the emotional toll was devastating.

Just as the doctor discharged him, his phone buzzed. A friend request from Xavier. Then three photos followed.

The first was Ava, blurry-eyed and heartbreakingly vulnerable. The second showed her in a hotel robe, raising a glass in a toast. The third… Ava asleep in bed, her bare shoulder exposed beneath the covers.

Darren's heart shattered. A wave of nausea hit him, nearly doubling him over. He tried to reply, but Xavier deleted the photos, and Darren's message was returned with undelivered marks.

He stumbled out of the hospital into a sudden downpour. He didn't hail a cab. He walked, drenched, all the way back to their apartment—the home they had built together.

Standing on the balcony, rain dripping from his hair, he smoked cigarette after cigarette. Memories surged through him—beautiful moments, tender moments, childish fights, and the overwhelming ache of love and betrayal.

"Why am I so pathetic? So weak?" he whispered to the rain."I wasn't always like this…When did I lose myself? When did I become so afraid of losing her?"

A spark of resolve flickered in his dark eyes. He stubbed out his cigarette, went inside, and grabbed a change of clothes. Ten minutes lat

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