The Man I Was Never Meant to Love

Prolouge

The night I found out Adrian was cheating, it wasn't dramatic.

There was no screaming.

No broken glasses.

No public humiliation.

Just silence.

The kind of silence that shatters you slowly.

I remember staring at the photograph on my phone — him outside a hotel, his hand at the small of her back.

Too intimate.

Too familiar.

Too real.

The caption read:

"Blackwell's new mystery woman?"

I waited for him to deny it.

To explain it.

To run to me.

He didn't.

And that was the moment I understood something devastating.

Sometimes love doesn't die because someone leaves.

It dies because they don't fight.

I loved Adrian Blackwell once.

And he let me walk away.