I heard heels clicking against the stairs.
Sharp and confident steps. Then came the giggling. High-pitched. It sounded Familiar.
At first, I thought it was a dream.
Maybe just noise from the hallway.
But the sounds got louder… closer. Real.
Then click ,the doorknob turned.
My eyes snapped open. I sat up, blinking fast, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
But no… it wasn't a dream.
Ryder stood at the door.
And right beside him, Isla.
My worst nightmare. In flesh and blood. In my bedroom.
I pulled the bedsheet slightly up to my chest, still in my lingerie. My heart pounded so loud it echoed in my ears.
He looked at me like I was dirt.
"What the hell are you wearing, Maya?" he scoffed, his voice flat. "Aren't you tired of disgracing yourself?"
I swallowed hard. My lips parted, but no words came out.
"Don't you ever get tired of making people physically sick by just existing?" he added.
My throat tightened.
Isla stepped forward, arms crossed, a smug smirk stretched across her face.
"I told you not to marry her," she said, tilting her head like she pitied him. "You should've chosen me instead."
He shrugged. "You know I didn't have a choice. Granny made it clear the marriage was for the family business."
A tight laugh slipped out of Isla's mouth. "And now look at you… stuck with a corpse in lingerie."
I stood there in silence, frozen in place.
Humiliated.
Ashamed.
Bare.
They stood in my doorway like I didn't belong in my own home.
"Please," Ryder added coldly, "change whatever… this is. And maybe figure out how to clear those irritating stretch marks too. You're embarrassing both of us."
And just like that, he turned around.
He placed his hand on Isla's waist.
She giggled again, leaning into him.
He kissed her, right there. Softly. On the lips.
Right in front of me.
Then they walked away.
Like I was invisible.
Just as if the humiliation wasn't enough, the door had barely clicked shut behind them when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
With tears still clinging to my lashes, I wiped my face and picked it up, heart already thundering like it knew.
Twitter notification.
The Ice King Gets Cozy With His Cheerleader: Trouble in Paradise for Hockey Royalty?
My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling.
I tapped it open.
There it was.
Ryder Knox and Isla Rivers.
My husband. My step-sister.
Their photo was everywhere.
The comments beneath were worse than I could have imagined.
"She stole her sister's man. What kind of snake does that?
"Maya must've seen it coming. You can't marry a superstar and not expect competition."
"Gold digger energy. You hate to see it."
My hands were shaking.
They aren't even taking my side, they're taking hers.
I couldn't breathe.
I kept scrolling.
Each word cut deeper.
Then I saw the picture.
The one that felt like a punch in the gut.
Ryder and Isla walking side-by-side on the red carpet.
Her arm looped around his like they'd always belonged.
She was glowing, smiling so wide it made me sick.
I zoomed in on the background.
There I was.
Behind them.
Staring.
Like an extra in my own life.
The disgust on my face was clear, and somehow, they made that look pathetic too.
More photos followed, laughing, whispering, his hand on her waist, her leaning into his shoulder like they were already married.
My stomach twisted violently.
Tears slid down my cheeks, falling onto the screen.
I threw the phone.
Let it crash.
Didn't care if it shattered.
Maybe I wanted it to break. Maybe if it did, the ache in my chest would shatter too.
I backed up against the door, then slid down to the floor. Hugging my knees.
Cold.
Empty.
I stared at the wall for I don't know how long.
The world moved, but I didn't.
Minutes. Hours. Who knew?
I glanced at the mirror.
I didn't recognize myself.
Eyes red. Skin pale. Lingerie wrinkled and useless. Hair matted.
My reflection looked like a jump scare.
This isn't me.
What did Isla do to me?
I used to be radiant. The hot, confident blonde with curves that made people stare.
Now, I looked like a ghost in my own skin.
I looked down at my body, at the faint stretch marks along my hip.
The ones Ryder used to kiss.
Now he mocked them.
Tears threatened again. I blinked hard, refusing to let them win.
That's when the door knob twisted.
My heart lurched.
The door creaked open. Ryder stepped in.
He looked at me like I was something he stepped over.
"Seriously, Maya?" His tone was dry. Disgusted. "You're not even dressed yet?"
I stayed silent, heart thudding.
He scanned me, eyes stopping at my thighs, then my face, and shook his head.
"God. Do you ever stop embarrassing yourself?"
His words were knives.
He turned to leave, paused at the door.
"You've got forty-five minutes. Be ready, and try not to look like a freaking disaster this time. We're going to the award dinner. I won't be late because of you."
Something flickered in his expression—regret? Shame?
Gone in a second.
He slammed the door.
I flinched at the sound.
He didn't ask if I was okay.
Didn't ask why I looked like I'd been crying all day.
He just left.
Again.
I stood up slowly, my legs wobbly.
As I made my way toward the closet, I caught my reflection again.
Still that stranger.
Be strong, Maya.
Not for him. For you.
You've survived worse.
You won't let this break you.
My hand touched the wall to steady myself.
One last deep breath.
Then I pulled the closet door open and reached for a red dress .