Chapter 1

The noise in the room was a physical thing, a wave of sound that pressed in on all sides. It was the sound of success, of champagne flutes clinking, of excited chatter, of camera flashes popping. It was the sound of Olivia Reed' s breakthrough album launch party, and for seven years, it was the only sound I had wanted to hear. My name is Ethan Miller, and I was the architect of this moment, even if my name wasn' t on the album cover.

I stood near the back, leaning against a cool marble pillar, a glass of champagne in my hand. I watched Olivia as she moved through the crowd. She was a star tonight, glowing under the spotlights. Every person wanted a piece of her, a photo, a handshake, a moment of her attention. She wore a silver dress that I had helped her pick out, a dress that cost more than my first car. But it was worth it. Everything was worth it for her.

I thought back to the beginning. Seven years ago, she was singing in dimly lit coffee shops to a handful of people. I was a junior architect, fresh out of college, full of big dreams for buildings and a bigger love for her. I saw her talent, her fire. I believed in her when no one else did. I sold my prized vintage car to fund her first demo tape. I worked overtime, taking on extra freelance projects, so she could quit her waitressing job and focus solely on her music. Our small apartment became her studio, the walls lined with soundproofing foam I installed myself. My architectural models were pushed into a corner to make room for her keyboard and guitars.

"You' re amazing, Ethan," she used to say, her head on my chest after a long day of writing. "I couldn' t do any of this without you."

Those words were the fuel that kept me going. They were more valuable than any paycheck.

Tonight, all that sacrifice had paid off. The label executives were here, critics were smiling, and her album was already climbing the digital charts. I took a sip of my champagne, the bubbles fizzing on my tongue. A sense of deep, quiet pride filled my chest. We did it.

My friend Mark clapped me on the shoulder, his voice loud over the music. "Man, you must be on top of the world. Look at her. She' s a supernova."

I smiled, a real, genuine smile. "She deserves all of it."

Then, the music softened. Liam Hayes, her producer and childhood friend, walked onto the small stage and tapped the microphone. The room quieted down. Liam had always been a fixture in our lives, a constant presence. He was the one who mixed her tracks, the one she called for late-night creative sessions. I never liked him much. There was a smugness to him I couldn't shake, but he was good at his job, and he was important to Olivia, so I tolerated him.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate a truly special artist," Liam began, his voice smooth and confident. "It' s been an honor to produce this album and to watch Olivia grow into the star she was always meant to be. And now, the woman of the hour, Olivia Reed!"

The crowd erupted in applause. Olivia practically floated onto the stage, her smile dazzling. She took the microphone from Liam, her eyes sweeping over the adoring faces. My heart swelled. This was her moment.

"Wow," she breathed into the mic. "Thank you. Thank you all so much. This is... this is a dream. A dream I' ve had for so long."

She started thanking the label, her manager, the fans. Standard stuff. I stood up straighter, waiting for it. Waiting for her to look at me, to give me that small, secret smile that said, we did this together.

"There are two people I need to thank more than anyone," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "Two people who have been my rock, my inspiration, my everything."

My breath caught in my throat. This was it.

"The first is my mother, who always believed in me." The crowd aww' d. "And the second..." She paused, turning to look at Liam, who stood beside her, beaming. Her eyes filled with tears. "The second is the love of my life. The man who has stood by me since we were kids, who shared my dreams before I even knew how to sing them. My producer, my best friend, my soulmate... Liam."

The room went silent for a fraction of a second before exploding into cheers and whistles. The words hit me like a physical blow. It felt like the air was punched out of my lungs. I stared, unblinking, as Olivia reached out, took Liam' s hand, and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss right there on stage, under the full glare of the spotlights. The camera flashes were blinding, a hundred tiny explosions going off in my face.

My champagne glass slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the floor. No one noticed. All eyes were on the stage, on the happy couple. My mind was a blank, a roaring static. It didn' t make sense. Her soulmate? The love of her life? What was I? For seven years, what was I?

The world around me seemed to warp and distort. The happy cheers of the crowd sounded like mocking laughter. I saw Mark' s face turn towards me, his smile gone, replaced by a look of confusion and pity. I couldn' t breathe. I stumbled backward, bumping into someone, not bothering to apologize. I had to get out.

I turned and pushed my way through the throng of bodies, my movements clumsy and desperate. I didn't look back. I couldn't. The image of them kissing was burned into my vision, playing on a loop. I burst through the doors of the venue and into the cool night air, sucking in a ragged breath that did nothing to calm the frantic hammering in my chest.

My hands started to shake uncontrollably. My vision blurred. I leaned against the brick wall of the building, my legs feeling weak. A panic attack. It was coming on fast and hard. My heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my ribs. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the grimy pavement, my head in my hands, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Sometime later, the door opened, and Olivia came out. Not alone. Liam was with her. She stopped a few feet away, her expression not one of concern, but of annoyance.

"Ethan? What are you doing out here? You' re making a scene." Her voice was cold, distant.

I looked up at her, my vision still spotty. "A scene?" I managed to choke out. "You... you just blew up my life on stage, and you' re worried about me making a scene?"

"Oh, don' t be so dramatic," she scoffed, crossing her arms. Liam stood behind her, a protective hand on her back, his eyes full of smug victory. "I was going to tell you. I just got caught up in the moment. It was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Beautiful?" The word was acid in my mouth. "Seven years, Olivia. I gave you seven years of my life."

"And I' m grateful," she said, her tone dismissive. "But people change, Ethan. We grew apart. Liam and I... we have a history. A connection you and I never had."

A siren wailed in the distance. Or maybe it was just in my head. My chest was so tight I thought I was having a heart attack. I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I collapsed back against the wall, gasping.

"He' s hyperventilating," Liam said, his voice flat, bored.

Olivia sighed, a sound of pure impatience. "Ethan, stop it. You' re embarrassing me. People are watching." She looked around as if expecting paparazzi to jump out of the bushes. Her career, even now, was her only concern.

I was on the ground, struggling to breathe, my world completely shattered, and she was worried about her image. The coldness of it was more painful than the public humiliation. It was in that moment, looking up at her indifferent face, that I knew. It wasn't just that she didn't love me. She had never respected me. I was just a tool. A stepping stone. And now that she had reached the next level, I was being discarded.

Someone from the event staff, a security guard, must have seen me. He rushed over, his face etched with real concern. "Sir, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?"

"He' s fine," Olivia snapped. "He just had too much to drink." She turned to leave, pulling Liam with her. "We have to get back inside. The label head wants a picture."

They walked away without a second glance, leaving me on the cold pavement with a stranger. The security guard helped me to my feet, his arm a steady presence. He guided me to a bench and got me a bottle of water. The panic began to subside, replaced by a vast, hollow emptiness.

I eventually made my way home in a taxi, the city lights blurring past the window. Our apartment. The one I paid for. I walked into the living room and my eyes landed on the corner where my architectural supplies were still crammed. On top of a dusty box was a scale model I had built a few years ago. It was a beautiful, modern house with large windows and a wrap-around porch. Our dream house. The one we were supposed to build together on a plot of land upstate once she made it big.

I picked it up. It was light, fragile. Made of balsa wood and glue. A fantasy. I looked at the tiny rooms, the little furniture I had crafted. A life that was never real. With a sudden, cold clarity, I walked over to the trash can and dropped it in. The sound it made when it hit the bottom was small and pathetic.

My phone buzzed. A text from Olivia.

Where are you? Everyone' s asking. This is my night, Ethan. Don' t ruin it.

I stared at the screen, the words swimming in front of me. Ruin it. I had spent seven years building her night, and she thought I was the one who could ruin it. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It sounded strange and broken in the quiet apartment.

I typed back a single sentence. I' m moving out.

Then I turned the phone off. I walked into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and started to pack. I didn' t take much. Just my clothes, my laptop, my drafting tools. The things that were mine before her. Everything else, the furniture we picked out, the art on the walls, the life we had built-it was all part of the lie. I left it all behind.

As I was about to leave, I stopped at the door. On a small table was a silver frame holding a picture of us from a few years ago. We were on a beach, smiling, my arm wrapped around her. I looked happy. Naive. I picked up the frame, slid the photo out, and tore it in half. I let the pieces flutter to the floor.

Then, I walked out and closed the door on seven years of my life.

I ended up at a cheap motel on the edge of town. The room smelled of stale smoke and bleach. I sat on the edge of the lumpy bed and stared at the peeling paint on the wall. My phone, which I had foolishly turned back on, buzzed again. It was my mother. I ignored it. Then my sister. Then Mark.

Finally, a call from a number I didn' t recognize. I answered it, my voice raspy. "Hello?"

"Ethan? It' s Olivia' s mom." Her voice was hesitant. "Honey, are you alright? Olivia' s not making any sense."

I almost laughed. "That makes two of us."

"She said... she said you left her. On the biggest night of her life. Her father and I are so disappointed in you, Ethan. After everything we thought you two had."

Disappointed in me. The sheer audacity of it was breathtaking. They had always treated me like a son. We spent holidays together. Her father and I watched football. Her mother gave me the family recipe for lasagna. It was all a performance. They were all in on it.

"Did you know?" I asked, my voice flat. "About her and Liam?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. The silence was my answer.

"Ethan, it' s complicated," she finally said, her voice wheedling. "They have so much history. We just wanted Olivia to be happy."

"And what about my happiness?" I asked, the question hanging in the dead air. "Did anyone ever care about that?"

"You' re a good man, Ethan. You' ll be fine," she said, as if that was supposed to make it all better. "But Olivia needs him. This is her career. You can' t be selfish right now."

Selfish. The word was a slap in the face. I had sacrificed my own career ambitions, my savings, my entire twenties for her. And I was the selfish one.

"I have a family heirloom," I said suddenly, the words coming out before I even thought about them. "My grandmother' s ring. I was going to give it to her tonight. After the party."

The line went quiet again.

"I was going to ask her to marry me," I continued, the confession tearing out of me. "I had a whole speech planned. I guess I should thank her for saving me the trouble."

"Oh, Ethan..." she started, her voice full of fake pity.

"Don' t," I cut her off. "Don' t say another word. You can tell Olivia, and her father, and Liam, that I am done. Completely. And tell her not to bother contacting me."

I hung up before she could reply. I threw the phone against the far wall, where it clattered to the floor. The silence that followed was a relief. It was the first moment of peace I' d had in hours.

I sat there in the dark, the reality of my new life sinking in. I was alone in a cheap motel room with a suitcase and a broken heart. I had lost everything. Or maybe, I had lost nothing at all, because none of it was ever real. The love, the shared future, the partnership. It was all an illusion I had helped create. And now, the show was over.