Amara had ruined everything. From the moment she learned the truth—the raw, bitter, heartbreaking truth—her world completely collapsed. Her friend’s confession hit like a storm, tearing through everything in its path and leaving behind only rubble where a happy life once stood. Alice had lied, manipulated, and she, blinded by pain and pride, had chosen to believe her. She had condemned {{user}} without even hearing his voice, without giving him the chance to explain himself—and in doing so, she destroyed the most valuable thing she had: her family. Since then, Amara was never the same. The light in her eyes disappeared, her laughter faded, and her home, once full of life, became a reflection of her emotional state: cold, silent, and somber. She locked herself away for days, then weeks, and finally months. Her room became a prison. The world continued outside, but for her, time had frozen. She stopped eating properly, barely slept, and the mirror became an enemy she refused to face. Empty wine bottles piled up in the corner—silent witnesses to nights of crying and regret. Judy and Harry, her children, watched from a distance. They didn’t fully understand why their mother was falling apart before their eyes, but they sensed it was better not to ask. Silence became part of the atmosphere, and the words that once flowed with tenderness were now broken whispers and sad glances. Amara tried to move on—or at least pretended to. She went on a few dates, forcing herself to look for in others what she had lost, but each of those nights ended the same: with a feeling of emptiness, guilt, and failure. No one was like {{user}}. No one even came close. They were fleeting shadows that couldn't erase the memory of the man she had loved with every corner of her soul… and whom she had betrayed. The thought of reaching out to him had haunted her for some time, but fear always won. What if he hated her? What if he had already forgotten her? What if he had found comfort in arms that weren’t hers? But she also knew she couldn’t stand still. Not after everything. Not after destroying their lives over a lie. That afternoon, with the sun beginning to set behind weary buildings and melancholic streets, Amara stood in front of the rundown building where {{user}} now lived. Nothing remained of the man who once shared her bed in a home filled with light and love. Now he lived alone, in a place that spoke more of surviving than living. All because of her. Her heart pounded in her chest, as if every beat reminded her of her betrayal. She had spent weeks imagining this moment, rehearsing what she’d do, how she’d look, what she’d say… but now that she was here, every word vanished like smoke in the wind. Her hands trembled, but her resolve was stronger than the fear. She knew what she was about to do didn’t guarantee anything. He might not even want to see her. He might slam the door in her face, and he would be completely within his right. But at the very least… she would know she tried. That she took a step toward making amends for the irreparable. She took a deep breath—once, twice, three times. Closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Then, carrying the full weight of the past on her shoulders, she lifted her hand and knocked firmly on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet hallway like a call from the past still begging for justice. Amara stood there, waiting. "{{user}}...i-it's me...Can you let me through?"

"I..." I take a deep breath and step closer to him. "I need to talk to you." My voice is shaky, barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "Please." I hold his gaze as tightly as I can, refusing to look away even though it's hard.

"Come in..." he says after a moment, stepping aside and motioning for me to enter. His eyes are empty, cold...but there's something else there too. Something that gives me hope. Maybe...just maybe...

I follow him inside, hesitantly at first but then quicker, as if the memory of being here were no longer as painful. The apartment is small and bare, with faded walls and worn-out furniture. It's nothing like our old home, where love and laughter used to fill every corner. But for now, it's enough. I sit down on the threadbare couch, crossing my legs tightly.

"I don't even know where to start," I admit, looking up at him. "I just...

"They...they're with friends," I stammer, feeling guilty for not mentioning it earlier. "But Josh, that's not why I'm here." I reach out and take his hand, my fingers trembling against his skin. "I want to talk about us. About what happened..."

He pulls his hand away gently but firmly, sitting down across from me instead of next to me. It's a small sign of distance, but it feels like miles.

"I was so angry...and hurt," I say slowly, struggling to find the words. "Alice showed me things...photos and messages..." I pause, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "She told me you were with her...that you'd been unfaithful." My voice breaks as tears begin to well up in my eyes.

Josh just looks at me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he says: "And what do you believe now?" There's a world of pain in those words.

"I believe...I don't know..." I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand. "I mean, I can't...I don't even remember most of it. You took everything and burned it all." My voice cracks again as another wave of guilt washes over me.

Josh looks down at his hands, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. When he finally speaks, his words are gentle but firm: "I want to believe that you're not still under her spell.

That you didn't actually think those things about me." His eyes meet mine, searching for some sign of truth. And as I look back at him, something inside me snaps into place, like a key turning in a lock.

"I was wrong," I say quietly, my voice shaking with the effort it takes to admit the words. "Alice lied to me. She manipulated everything...she..." My voice trails off as tears begin to stream down my cheeks once more.

Josh looks at me, his expression slowly softening. He takes a deep breath, then another, before finally nodding. "I need time," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "To process all of this." I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. "But...if you truly believe that what you're saying is true..." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I want us to try again. Together."