The night I Lost Us

Caterina’s POV

The more I tried to stop the tears, the more they came—warm, relentless, and humiliating. They rolled down my cheeks in heavy silence, blurring the words on the paper clutched between my trembling fingers. I blinked, but it didn’t help. The ink still swam in my vision, the same letters staring back at me no matter how hard I tried to deny them.

Divorce.

I couldn't believe this. It felt like everything we had ever been was nothing to him.

I ran a thumb over his name, the curve of his initials that I used to love tracing on his skin. My chest tightened as if the air itself was pressing down on me. I bit my lip to stop the sob, but it came anyway, a broken, muffled sound that made people glance my way.

I didn't know how long I stared at the white sheet, but I hell knew that it was long enough that it became invisible, and all I could see through my blurry vision was memories.

I could vividly recall when his hand held mine so tightly I’d thought I’d never feel cold again. His warm breath had fanned my face as he whispered, “I will love you, Caterina. Always. I will never hurt you.”

Liar.

I shook my head, whispering the word under my breath over and over. “You lied… you lied…” My lips trembled with the weight of it.

The murmur of the cafeteria grew distant, like the world had decided to fade out and leave me in the wreckage. I could feel the weight of eyes on me, people staring—maybe pitying, maybe judging—but I didn’t care. I didn’t owe them composure. I was too busy stitching my own wounds to bother.

I stood abruptly, grabbing my purse and shoving the divorce paper inside. The chair scraped loudly across the floor as I stormed out, heels clattering against the tiles.

All I wanted was an apology. Not a signature.

Outside, the sky had opened up, pouring buckets of rain onto the streets as if it, too, wanted to mock me. I didn’t have an umbrella. I didn’t care. The rain soaked through my clothes in seconds, plastering my hair to my face, but I barely noticed. I just kept walking, half-blind with tears and stormwater.

Someone shouted when I bumped into them.

“Watch it, psycho!”

“Crazy bitch!”

Let them talk. Let them call me names. None of it hurt as much as he did.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering as the cold air bit at my wet skin. I just needed somewhere—anywhere—to breathe. To forget.

The neon lights of Crimson Lounge blinked ahead, painting the rain-slicked pavement red and gold. I pushed the glass door open, the familiar scent of whiskey, smoke, and fading perfume greeting me. The bass thumped low, matching the dull rhythm of my heart.

Behind the counter, Annette’s eyes widened the moment she saw me. Despite being emotionally drained, I could make out the expression that flickered across her face. I was a regular customer on weekends. I and Williams hung out at the bar, just to reignite what I thought existed.

“Cat? It’s not the weekend yet,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “You look like hell.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “My husband dumped me.”

Annette’s brows shot up. “Williams? That dick.”

I chuckled weakly, the sound almost breaking midway. Annette sighed, her expression softening. “Sit down. First round’s on me.”

“Annette—no, I can pay—”

“Don’t argue.” She turned, pulling out a bottle of tequila. “You look like you need it more than my boss does.”

I gave up and slid onto the stool, my damp clothes sticking to the seat. The first glass burned down my throat, and I shut my eyes, but it numbed something deep inside.

With every shot, the pain blurred just a little more. It had the effect of balm on open wounds, gently erasing the traces of pain.

Memories flickered across my mind in fragments—the first kiss, his laughter under moonlight, the vows, the way his hands used to feel against my skin. Every sip made them fade. Every swallow erased a little more of the love that had already left me.

On the fifth glass, I laughed. On the sixth, I cried.

Annette leaned closer, whispering, “Let it out, babe. He didn’t deserve you.”

I smiled at her through tears, then pulled off my wedding ring. I stared at the gold band for a long second. I'd gotten it when he complained that he was broke and couldn’t afford a ring. He'd promised to pay back but never did anyway. Well, it was all in the past.

My gaze bored into it, a smile tugging by the side of my lip, my stupid heart pleading for him. And then, with a small flick of my wrist, I flung it into the bar.

The metallic clink echoed through the room.

“Good riddance!” Annette cheered, raising her glass. The others joined, half-drunk and unaware of what the hell they were celebrating.

One drink turned into another. And another. Until I could barely tell where I ended and the music began.

Then I saw him.

Williams.

He was at the far end of the room, laughing, holding a woman by the waist, his hand too familiar on her body. Barely 24 hours after he sent a divorce letter, and now he was making out with another mistress? He never loved me. Never respected me.

Her dress clung to her body, and she swayed her hips with purpose, the sight shattering me into a thousand shreds. They'd barely noticed my presence, perhaps lost in their twisted world of romance to notice nobody like me.

My heart broke again—quietly this time. Watching him kiss the nape of her neck stole air out of my lungs, and it felt like I'd pass out if I stared long.

“Annette,” I said, my voice trembling. “I need to leave. Please. I can’t be here.”

She frowned. “Cat, you shouldn’t drive. You’ve had too much.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Please, I just need to get away.”

She followed my gaze, resting hers on Williams’ shoulders, her jaw clenching hard. She hesitated, then sighed, pulling a small key from her pocket. “Here. Take my car. It’s parked in the basement. But don’t ruin it—it’s my mom’s forty-fifth birthday gift, alright?”

I smiled faintly, grateful she understood. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The bar was a blur of noise and bodies as I pushed through the crowd. My heels clicked unevenly against the wet floor, my head spinning slightly from the alcohol.

The basement was quieter. Dim lights. The hum of the rain above. I found Annette’s car easily—a silver sedan. My hands fumbled with the key for a second before it turned in the ignition.

As the engine purred to life, I exhaled.

“You did it all for money…” I whispered, remembering Williams’ words. My eyes narrowed. What money? Who paid you?

The thought circled in my mind.

“Bastard,” I muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. “You ruined everything for money?”

I couldn't tell if he meant that he married me because of money or divorced because of money. I had no inheritance attached to my name. If I signed the divorce papers, I'd be getting compensation from him.

My vision blurred again—not from alcohol this time, but from fury.

The rain battered the windshield, the wipers struggling to keep up. My pulse raced as my thoughts spiraled. What did he mean? Who had made him betray me?

My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I drove down the road, my mind stuck in the labyrinth of many thoughts.

“Williams, who the fuck orchestrated this?” I asked no one in particular.

Just then, I felt the edge of reality start to blur. I tried to keep up with the navigation of the car... but I failed.

The last thing I r

emembered before passing out was a bright beam of light heading in my direction.

“Holy hell.”

Then… darkness.