CHAPTER 2 – Whispers of Betrayal

[ Li Xin’s POV ]

The news broke on a Tuesday morning.

By lunch, everyone at Vitality Pharmaceuticals already knew.

I felt the shift before I saw it — the way conversations hushed when I entered the corridor, the way eyes darted away and then back again. The same people who used to greet me with polite smiles now whispered behind coffee cups.

On the digital bulletin board, the headline glowed like a wound:

“Vitality’s Heir Liu Hao and Sapphire Plaza Heiress Wang Mei Announce Engagement.”

My breath caught. The photograph beneath showed them hand in hand, framed by chandeliers. Wang Mei’s diamond caught the light — deliberate, triumphant.

Someone beside me murmured, “Didn’t he use to date that sales director… what’s her name again?”

I turned before they could finish. “It’s Li Xin,” I said quietly.

Their smiles faltered. “Oh— we didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” My voice was steady, but my hands were cold. “Congratulations to them.”

Then I walked away before the trembling reached my throat.

❖

Rain pressed against the glass like gossip — soft, relentless, impossible to ignore.

By afternoon, my name was on every tongue. Someone had dug up old photographs from company events, a shadow of me always somewhere in the background. Online threads bloomed overnight — Was she the ex? How long ago did they break up? Did she know?

Every ping of my phone felt like another sting. Kyra texted only once:

Don’t look at the news. Just come to the café later. Please.

I deleted every other message.

Inside my office, I started packing what little remained — pens, a framed photo of my team, a half-used notebook filled with strategies I would never pitch again.

When I reached the door, I saw my reflection in the glass wall — tired eyes, perfect posture, a woman refusing to shatter where others could see.

That, I decided, would be my revenge: silence.

❖

Kyra’s café smelled of roasted beans and lavender. The storm had chased most customers away, leaving only the quiet hum of jazz from her playlist.

She looked up from behind the counter, expression softening instantly. “Xin.”

I tried to smile. “It’s everywhere.”

“I know,” she said. “I told them to remove your photos from the PR archives, but the internet moves faster than decency.”

I sat by the window, watching condensation trail down the glass. “It’s not the photos that hurt. It’s how easily I’ve become a story.”

Kyra joined me, two mugs steaming between us. “You’re not their story. You’re still yours.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

“Because right now, you’re bleeding,” she said quietly. “And bleeding people only see red.”

I laughed — a small, broken sound. “You should write poetry.”

She tilted her head. “I just live with too many of them.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by rain and the hiss of milk foam.

❖

The world outside was all silver light and memory.

Kyra reached across the table again, her fingers wrapping around mine. “You could leave Serenity for a while. I can talk to my agency, get you some temp work somewhere else.”

“Run away?” I asked. “That’s not me.”

“Then stay,” she said. “But hold your head high when you do.”

I thought of Liu Hao, of the way he avoided my eyes that last day — guilt disguised as composure. Maybe someday he’d realise what he’d lost, maybe not. But I refused to spend another year waiting for that kind of justice.

“I’ll be fine,” I whispered. “I just need time.”

Kyra’s smile was faint but proud. “That’s my girl.”

❖

When night came, I walked home through Serenity’s downtown streets. Neon lights bled into puddles, their reflections rippling beneath my footsteps. Somewhere above, thunder rolled — distant, forgiving.

At the cross-walk, I caught sight of Vitality’s headquarters towering behind me, its mirrored windows glowing like indifferent stars. I thought of everything I’d given that place — my effort, my pride, my heart — and for the first time, I didn’t wish to go back.

I paused beneath a streetlight. The rain had softened to mist, cool against my cheeks. A bus roared past, splashing water over the curb, and for one breathless second, I thought I saw the same black saloon again — the one from that night.

It slowed near the corner before vanishing into the flow of traffic.

Perhaps it was a coincidence—or perhaps it was something else entirely.

Either way, the thought steadied me. Somewhere in this city, someone else had seen me — not the broken woman on the news, but the one still standing in the rain.

❖

The steam from Kyra’s café mug still lingered in my memory — soft, rising, warm.

Hope, I realised, didn’t have to roar. Sometimes it just breathed quietly beside you, waiting for you to notice.

Tomorrow, I will start again.

■ Sneak Peek — Chapter 3 : Shattered Dreams

When the world finally stops whispering, it starts watching.

And sometimes, the cruellest wounds are carved not by enemies, but by silence in the people you loved.

“Every storm begins with rain, finds peace in the sky, and returns in the wind.”

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