The Skydiving Betrayal: His Steep Fall

Cathy's Perspective:

"Thanks, but no thanks." I was extremely calm in this moment.

Cole's jaw tightened. "Cathy, stop making a scene. I'm trying to make it up to you. I'm really trying."

"I'm tired, Cole. Exhausted." Eight years of emotional torture had drained every ounce of strength from my body.

He let out a cold laugh. "Tired? Me being a good friend makes you tired? You're always so dramatic. Fine, keep sulking. I'm going to check on Giselle." He turned and strode toward his car.

A tear of sheer relief slipped down my cheek. Eight years, and I would always be the second choice in his relationships.

I drove back to the apartment we shared. As soon as I opened the door, the air was thick with Giselle's cloying perfume. Leftover cereal and used tissues littered the coffee table.

Walking into the bedroom, my Dyson Airwrap was scattered across the vanity, still warm, with strands of blonde hair tangled in it. Next to it, my La Mer face cream—the one I rarely used because it was so precious—was left with the lid off, a massive chunk visibly gouged out of it.

The Dyson was a reward I bought for myself after signing a huge deal, and the La Mer was an expensive investment. Cole, on the other hand, had casually gifted Giselle a top-of-the-line laptop once.

My eyes snapped to the closet. The designer coat I had saved up for a whole year to buy was gone.

My phone rang. It was Cole.

"Hey, babe," his voice was unusually light. "Giselle feels much better after the skydive. Oh, by the way, she borrowed your black coat. She said she was cold. You don't mind, right?"

My jaw clenched. "It's fine."

"I knew you'd be understanding." He sounded relieved. "Oh, and she used your Dyson and face cream too. She thought mine were too masculine."

A cold fury surged in my chest. This wasn't just heartache; this was the humiliation of feeling utterly violated.

"My Dyson? My La Mer?"

"It's just stuff," he said impatiently. "We can share everything, right? What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine."

I gripped my phone, my hand shaking. For eight years, it was always my things and my time being casually offered up to Giselle. What kind of sharing was this?

"Cole," I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Do you think it's appropriate for Giselle to just use my personal belongings like that?"

He let out a long sigh. "Are you serious right now? She's my best friend. More than that, she's family. It's just a coat and some skincare. You're being completely unreasonable."

"Just some?" I let out a short, cold laugh. This wasn't about things. This was my personal sanctuary being trampled over by his blatant favoritism toward Giselle.

"I'm going to make sure Giselle gets home safe. We'll talk when you calm down." He hung up immediately.

Listening to the dial tone, a mocking realization hit me: this wasn't my home. I was only ever a passing guest here.