The rain hadn't stopped all day.
Nick sat at his desk, staring blankly at the rain slamming against the windows of his office. The rhythm matched the pandemonium in his chest. Everything felt weird. Arthur hadn't come home the night before—not because he didn't want to, but because Nick had warned him not to. Their latest quarrel had spiraled into slammed doors and oppressive silence.
And now, sitting in the midst of his office, Nick held something in his hands that made his heart freeze.
A USB drive. Left anonymously on his assistant's desk that morning.
He shouldn't have opened it. Should've dumped it in the trash and forgotten about it. But curiosity, suspicion, and fear—they always won when love started to feel like a deception.
Nick clicked play.
The video was blurry but clear enough. It showed Arthur and Ake seated closely in what appeared like a private salon. Arthur was smiling at something Ake muttered, leaning in. Ake placed his hand on Arthur's leg. Arthur didn't shove it away immediately. And then—one moment extended too long—Ake leaned forward, and it looked like a kiss.
Nick paused the video before it concluded.
He stood, his hands trembling.
His initial instinct was denial. No. Arthur wouldn't. He loves me. We're married.
But the uncertainty was already rooted, nourished by weeks of tension, conflicts, and Ake's continuous presence. The recollection of Arthur once faking to date Ake to make him jealous ached sharper today.
This didn't look fake.
It looked like betrayal.
Arthur entered the door to their flat a few hours later, his hair soaked from the rain, the paper bag of takeout turning cold in his hands. "Nick?" he called, hopeful despite everything.
Nick stood in the living room, arms folded, face unreadable. The USB disk rested on the coffee table between them like a loaded weapon.
Arthur's heart plummeted.
"What's going on?" he asked slowly, setting the food down. "You didn't answer my messages all day."
Nick didn't talk for a beat. Then he nodded toward the coffee table. "Someone dropped that off this morning. Thought you might want to explain what's on it."
Arthur blinked. "What is it? "
Nick didn't answer.
With shaky hands, Arthur took it up, plugged it into his laptop, and hit play.
His breath hitched.
"I didn't kiss him," Arthur said quickly. "I didn't. That's not—Nick, I didn't—"
"You didn't what? " Nick cut him off, voice sharp. "Didn't go see him behind my back? Didn't let him touch you like that? "
"I went to meet him because I wanted to tell him to stop interfering," Arthur said desperately. "I thought doing it face-to-face would end this faster. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset—"
Nick scoffed. "So you hid it? "
"I wasn't hiding it—I was handling it—"
"Handling it? " Nick snapped. "Arthur, that man has been trying to ruin our lives. And you still went to meet him in private? "
Arthur's voice cracked. "I went there to protect us! "
"Then why does it look like you were enjoying it? "
"I wasn't! " Arthur's voice broke, raw. "You think I wanted him to touch me? I froze! I didn't anticipate him to try anything, and by the time I moved his hand away, someone had already taped it. It's a setup, Nick! "
Nick shook his head slowly, chest heaving. "I don't know what to believe anymore."
Arthur came forward, tears threatening to flow. "Nick, please. You have to believe me. I love you. I've only ever loved you."
But Nick stepped back, each inch of distance ripping a larger hole in Arthur's heart.
"I can't do this right now," Nick whispered gently. "I need space."
Arthur stared at him. "What does that mean? "
Nick looked aside. "It means I'm moving out."
The next morning, Arthur woke up to a silent apartment.
Nick was gone.
His closet, half-empty.
His toothbrush is missing.
His key was placed on the kitchen counter next to a folded letter that simply read, I need time. I hope one day I can trust again.
I love you. But right now, that's not enough.
Arthur stared at the note until the ink blurred through his tears.
________________________________________
Across the city, in a fancy hotel suite, Ake poured himself a glass of wine, his phone vibrating on the counter.
A message from an unknown number.
It's done. He saw the video.
Ake smiled to himself, sipping carefully.
"One down," he murmured.
But deep inside, even he knew—breaking them apart was merely the beginning.
Because love, no matter how damaged, has a way of stitching itself back together… especially when it refuses to die.