The smell of cheap wine and perfume clung to the air as Smith Carter pushed open the door to his apartment. It was past midnight. He had been working late again, chasing yet another business deal that was supposed to pull him out of the mess of debt and stress he had been drowning in. He was exhausted, but the thought of seeing her — the woman he trusted more than anyone — kept him going.
"Clara," he called softly, his deep voice echoing into the darkened living room.
There was no answer. Just muffled laughter. Then a sound Smith's stomach twisted at immediately — the creak of his own bed frame.
His heart pounded as he walked toward the bedroom, each step heavier than the last. He gripped the doorknob and twisted it open.
What he saw burned itself into his soul.
Clara — his girlfriend of three years, the woman who once swore she'd be by his side forever — was on the bed. Naked. Arching. Writhing beneath another man.
His so-called best friend, Daniel.
For a moment, Smith couldn't move. The air left his lungs like he'd been punched. His body locked up, his thoughts scrambled. He wanted to believe it was a nightmare. That if he blinked, the scene would vanish. But Clara's moans — the same moans she once gave him — tore away that illusion.
Daniel noticed him first. He didn't stop. He smirked. "Oh, look who finally showed up."
Clara turned her head lazily, her eyes meeting Smith's. For a moment, there was shock — but then it twisted into something cruel. "Smith," she whispered, almost amused. "You should've knocked."
His heart shattered. "Clara… why?"
She pulled Daniel closer, biting his lip with a wicked smile. "Why? Because you're weak. Pathetic. Do you think I'd waste my life waiting for a man who can barely pay his bills? You're nothing, Smith. Daniel's stronger, richer… a real man."
Her words stabbed deeper than any blade. Smith's fists shook, his nails digging into his palms until blood welled. "After everything I did for you…"
Daniel laughed, thrusting harder into her just to prove a point. "Don't take it personally, buddy. She wanted a man, not a loser."
Smith lunged forward, rage flooding his veins, but Daniel was faster. He shoved Smith hard into the wall. The back of Smith's head cracked against plaster, his vision blurring.
Clara stood from the bed, not even bothering to cover her body. She looked down at him like he was an insect. "You're in the way, Smith. Always have been."
Daniel picked up the wine bottle from the nightstand. Before Smith could react, the heavy glass shattered against his skull. White-hot pain exploded across his vision. He collapsed to the floor, warm blood running down his face.
His body refused to move. He could only watch as Clara crouched down, her lips curling in mock pity. "Don't worry. I'll remember you… maybe." She pressed a kiss to Daniel's lips while staring into Smith's fading eyes. "Goodbye."
The last thing Smith heard was their laughter — twisted, mocking — as the darkness swallowed him.
His final thought wasn't sorrow. It wasn't despair.
It was hate.
If there's another life… I'll make them pay. I'll make everyone pay.
And then, silence.