When Love's Fireworks Fade Chapter 2

At twenty-three, the moment I graduated, Tristan and I got married.

By then, his company was valued at millions, and he had purchased a luxury penthouse in one of Boston's most expensive districts. Because we had no financial worries, I took a quiet, low-stress job earning about three thousand dollars a month. In a city like Boston, it wasn't a high salary, but the hours were strictly nine-to-five, and the office was incredibly close to Tristan's headquarters and our home.

Tristan was consumed by his work, and I had no grand career ambitions. I preferred coming home to cook dinner and tend to our pets.

In the beginning, everything was perfect. Tristan's company grew rapidly, and he was hailed as one of the youngest, most promising tech executives in the country. He was sharp, confident, and deeply devoted to me. He would sit at our table, drinking the soup I had simmered for hours, and tell me how incredibly lucky he felt.

But gradually, his nights out grew longer, and the distance between us stretched into a chasm.

The breaking point arrived on Tristan's twenty-seventh birthday. I stayed up waiting for him all night. When he finally walked through the door at dawn, I spotted a clear smear of red lipstick on his collar.

In that instant, something inside me snapped.

I hurled his birthday cake at him, lunging forward to tear at his shirt. I smashed everything within reach: the dishes, the decorations, our framed wedding portraits.

Tristan watched my hysteria with cold, detached eyes. He calmly reached behind him to close the front door. "Brooke, if you're going to scream, at least close the door. If you don't care about your reputation, I care about mine."

He looked at me, his brow furrowed with deep irritation. "You're still my wife, and as long as you don't cross the line, nothing will change. No one is going to take your place. Be reasonable. It's better for everyone."

He didn't even bother to deny it. He just stood there and admitted it.

My mind shattered. I lunged at him again, but he pushed me away with enough force to send me stumbling. He looked down at me, his words cutting like glass. "Look at yourself. Do you look like a CEO's wife? You look like a screaming street vendor."

He turned and walked out of the apartment. He didn't return for weeks.

I was twenty-seven, proud, and entirely unprepared for that level of humiliation. I began showing up at his office, demanding a confrontation. It didn't take me long to find out who the other woman was: Vivian, his corporate partner.

Tristan hadn't even tried to hide her. They were already behaving like a married couple in front of the staff, attending meetings and dinners together. His assistants, his executives, everyone knew. I was the only one kept in the dark.

The betrayal kept me awake for days.

Eventually, I lost control and lunged at Vivian in the office lobby, grabbing her hair as we tumbled to the floor. She was thin and lacked my physical strength, but even as I pinned her down, she glared up at me with tears in her eyes.

"I know I'm wrong, Brooke! But I was there coding with Tristan when we were still in college! We pulled seventy-hour weeks, drank cheap coffee, and survived on instant noodles! Where were you? What were you doing?"

"Tristan would finish a twenty-hour shift and still have to run to your campus to walk you to your morning classes! You sat back and enjoyed his success while he nearly worked himself to death! You don't deserve him!"

My hands went limp, and I stumbled back, staring at her in disbelief.

How could she speak with such self-righteous fury? Was she actually accusing me of failing him?

Tristan rushed into the lobby. He didn't look at me once. He helped Vivian up, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and led her away.

I walked back to our empty penthouse like a ghost, sitting in the dark for days, her words echoing in my mind. Where was I while they were building his dream? What was I doing?

I was in Seattle.