"I didn’t think you’d still be in the dark after all these years."
His gaze shifted upward, locking with mine, a strange intensity behind his eyes.
"Irene," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "because I like you."
I froze; my breath caught in my throat.
His voice was gentle but held a weight and he continued, "Irene, all these years, my friendship with Clayton was because of you."
A small, rueful smile tugged at his lips as he added, "I even liked you before he did."
Matias, Clayton, and I had known each other since university, and Clayton and I had fallen in love at first sight. In what felt like the blink of an eye, we had become a couple, a love story that spanned from campus to marriage for eight years.
But Matias, Matias had never once dated anyone.
Everyone around us had whispered, joked even, about his “unusual” orientation, but he had always stayed distant, refusing to get close to any woman.
"See? I’m an actor, Irene. No one ever figured it out, did they?"
He lowered his eyes, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips as if to laugh at his own hidden truth.
"You—you're joking, right?"
I hurriedly grabbed my coffee, taking a sip to mask the nervous tremor in my hands. But the hot liquid burned my throat, and I winced.
Matias, ever the observant one, skillfully handed me a napkin.
"I know you love Clayton, and he loves you too. I had planned to bury this love in my heart forever."
"But I never expected that just a few years later, he'd be hiding another woman."
"Irene," his voice softened, "I can’t bear to let you be deceived any longer."
"Leave him," he urged his voice low and filled with yearning. "I’ve been waiting for you all this time."
Matias had gone on a business trip with Clayton. But sensing my distress, he had returned in the dead of night, rushing back to meet me, fearing I might do something reckless once the truth came out.
I managed a faint smile, a weak shield against the storm brewing inside me.
"Don’t worry, I won’t do anything foolish.”
"At least not until I get back what’s mine."
As I left the café, lost in thought, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from Clayton.
"Baby, my trip ended early today. I got you your favorite strawberry cake. Wait for me at home."
He even sent a picture of the cake, the sugary sweetness taunting me.
I didn’t respond, my mind calculating our shared assets in silence.