The city always smelled different when she came back. New York wasn't London; it was louder, rougher, always pressing in from every direction. Yellow cabs honked, sirens wailed, and somewhere down the block, a vendor was shouting over the hiss of his hot dog cart.
Sienna Denhaag rolled her suitcase along the cracked pavement, her heart so full she thought it might burst. Months of careful planning had led to this moment. She hadn't told anyone, not Marcom, Brianna, or even her parents. She wanted the surprise to be perfect. After all, what fiancé wouldn't want to open his door and see the woman he promised forever with.
She smiled to herself, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her cheek. He'd probably scold her for traveling overnight without telling him, for flying across an ocean without backup plans. That was Marcom, always precise, always planning. And she loved him for it.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Brianna lit the screen:
Can't wait to see you soon, babe. Drinks when you're settled? Xx
Sienna's chest warmed. She'd missed her best friend just as much as she missed him. Tonight would be perfect. First, the reunion with Marcom, then drinks with Brianna, then the life she'd been dreaming of ever since she left for London.
She rounded the corner onto his street, dragging her suitcase up the stone steps of the brownstone apartment they used to share before she left for her studies. Her hands trembled as she dug for the spare key she still carried in her wallet. She pictured his face when she walked in; shock melting into that dimpled grin she adored.
The sound stopped her.
A moan.
Sienna froze, the key halfway in the lock. Her breath caught in her throat. She pressed her ear to the door, then another sound, low and guttural, unmistakable.
Her hand shook as she twisted the key, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The apartment smelled faintly of cologne and sex.
"Marcom?" Her voice cracked.
No answer. Just a gasp, higher-pitched this time. Her feet carried her forward before her brain caught up, past the kitchen, down the short hallway, until the bedroom door came into view.
It wasn't closed.
It was open just enough for her to see.
It was Brianna's hair. Blonde, tangled, spilling across Marcom's chest. Her best friend's lips parted in a cry of pleasure. Marcom's hands are gripping her hips, her fiancé.
Sienna's world tilted.
The suitcase slipped from her fingers, the wheels thudding against the hardwood. Both heads whipped toward the doorway, eyes wide, guilt painted across their faces like a scene from a bad movie.
"Oh my God, Sienna," Brianna started, scrambling for the sheet.
Marcom swore under his breath, fumbling upright. "It's not... Oh my God, baby, it's not what it looks like—"
"Don't," Sienna snapped, her voice shaking so hard it barely sounded like hers. "Don't you dare call me that. You fucking disgust me!"
The bile rose hot in her throat. Her vision blurred, but not from tears. Her chest heaved as she backed away, her hand fumbling for the doorframe to steady herself.
Months. Years. Every sacrifice, every promise is now worthless.
Her legs moved on their own, carrying her out, past the kitchen, out the door. She barely registered Marcom's voice shouting after her, bare feet slapping the floor, Brianna's shrill tone begging her to stop.
She ran.
Down the steps into the street, into the chaos of New York.
Her chest felt like it might explode, her vision smeared with the blur of lights and strangers' faces. She didn't stop moving. Her suitcase was gone, her phone still in her hand, but nothing else mattered. She needed distance, air, anything to drown out the echo of their betrayal.
The neon glow of a bar caught her eye. Small, tucked between a pizza shop and a dry cleaner. Dark windows, music pounding through the walls. It didn't matter what kind of place it was. She needed noise. She needed alcohol. She needed not to feel anything.
Sienna shoved the door open and stepped into the haze of dim lights and pulsing bass.
She didn't notice the man watching her from across the room. Didn't notice the way his gaze tracked her every step. She just knew she was broken, and she needed to break herself even more to forget.