As I ordered my pizza on that calm Saturday evening, I figured it would be just another ordinary night. With my fiancé, Ryan, away for work, the quiet in our apartment felt like a double-edged sword. I had no idea that a simple pizza delivery would lead me to uncover a betrayal I never saw coming.
My one-bedroom apartment felt like a warm and inviting refuge. The eclectic mix of furniture that Ryan and I had gathered over the years brought a cozy charm to the place, while the gentle glow of fairy lights draped around the living room filled the space with warmth. It felt like a place woven from memories—or at least, that’s what I believed.
Ryan and I had been in a relationship for almost four years. Our relationship had its flaws, but it felt steady. Cozy. We shared our routines, our little inside jokes, and dreams for a future that felt so secure. With our wedding just a few months around the corner, I was completely immersed in bridal preparations—going over guest lists, perfecting the menu, and envisioning a day that would unite our lives forever.
