Chapter 2 Nothing Left.

Layla's pov

I couldn't see her face, as her back was turned, and he was ramming into her from behind like a damn animal. She moaned loudly with every thrust, bent over the living room couch.

Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and Ryan had one hand holding her panties aside to give himself easier access.

"Fuck, Ryan! Hit the spot harder," the woman screamed like it was the highlight of her week, using her hand to rub her clit as he pounded into her.

"Chill, baby. We're getting there gradually," Ryan groaned, his voice raw with pleasure.

Could today get any worse?

I took a step back, and my foot hit the edge of the coffee table. The small ceramic flower pot I'd bought to brighten up his cold-ass apartment tumbled to the floor and shattered with a sharp crack.

They jumped apart at the sound, scrambling to cover themselves. The woman turned first, and in less than a second, her expression shifted from shock to guilt.

My mouth went dry. My nails bit into my palms, the only thing keeping me grounded.

Brielle.

Ryan's so-called childhood friend. The same Brielle I'd cried to last week when Ryan started acting weird. The one who told me to stop overthinking things, that it was just work stress. That everything was fine.

I stared at them, too stunned to feel anything yet. My brain was trying to process what I'd just walked in on, but the pieces didn't fit. I blinked hard, hoping it was a nightmare. That I'd wake up.

But I didn't.

Who would've thought the perfect Brielle was the one screwing my fiancé?

The irony stung like acid. If I wasn't so broken, I might've laughed. I'd wasted three damn years of my life on a man who couldn't keep his cock in his pants.

"Lay... Layla," Ryan stammered, clearly scrambling to sound composed. "I didn't expect you home this early."

I shook my head slowly. I didn't even know what part to focus on. What I just witnessed, or the dumbass excuse that just came out of his mouth.

Did he seriously feel no shame?

"Your actions speak for themselves," I said flatly. "Coming home to this? So thoughtful of you."

"Layla, it's not what it looks like-"

A dry, hollow laugh escaped my lips. "Oh, good. Then by all means, tell me what it is."

I looked around.the room. The wine glasses, the soft music, the candles still flickering, Brielle's bag on the chair, Ryan's shirt half untucked like he'd been lounging there for hours.

How long had this been going on? Weeks? Months? Longer?

Did he ever love me?

"I got fired today," I said quietly, my eyes pinned to his. "I walked out of that office with nothing. No paycheck. No goodbye. Just because I refused to sleep with my boss."

Ryan swallowed. "I didn't know-"

"Of course, you didn't," I snapped. "You didn't ask. You didn't call. You were too busy screwing your 'childhood friend.'" I made air quotes with my fingers, not that either of them deserved a performance.

The room went silent. Brielle opened her mouth like she had something to say, but the glare I sent her way shut her up fast.

"I needed someone today," I said, my voice cracking. "I told myself I did the right thing. That my fiancé would be proud of me. But this-" I gestured to them. "And I come home to this."

"You didn't even try to hide it," I whispered. "That's the worst part."

"It wasn't planned," Ryan muttered, stepping toward me.

"Don't." I said sharply. "Don't insult me by pretending this was a mistake."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "You're overreacting. This isn't as big as you think."

My eyes widened.

"I'm overreacting?" My voice rose. "Ryan, I just walked in on you fucking Brielle and I'm the one who's overreacting?"

"I-this was a mistake. A one-time thing-"

"A mistake?" I repeated. "You call this a one-time thing?" I waved at the wine, the lights, the damn playlist. "You went through all this for one quick fuck?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he muttered, guilt finally creeping into his expression.

I squared my shoulders. "You didn't mean to stop yourself either. And to think, I lost my job today because I refused to cheat on you."

My eyes stung, but I refused to let tears fall, especially not in front of them. They didn't deserve that kind of vulnerability from me.

"Layla..."

I held up my hand to silence him and turned to Brielle.

She stared straight at me, no trace of regret. A faint smirk played on her lips. Like this had been some game, and she'd won.

"You must feel proud of yourself," I said coldly. "You finally get him all to yourself."

Brielle tilted her head and shrugged lazily. "Hmm. Not really."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't actually want him," she said, like it was nothing. "Not the way you did."

I scoffed. "Then what was the point of all this? Why go through all this?"

"You took him too seriously," she replied, her voice bored now. "Always acting like he was yours. Someone had to remind you he wasn't."

She said it like I was the problem.

"I just didn't expect you to come home today," she added, slightly annoyed.

I clenched my jaw. "You're disgusting."

"And you're naive," she said simply. "You thought loyalty meant something to people like him. Or me."

It hit me all at once. Those late-night calls they shared, Ryan's distance, Brielle's comforting lies about him being stressed from work. It had all been part of it.

And now, she was throwing it in my face.

"If it makes you feel better," she added with venom, "you're not even worth him."

I just nodded. That was all I needed to hear. I turned away and bent to grab my bag from the floor, slinging it over my shoulder with the calmness I didn't even know I had left.

"I'll come back for the rest of my things when I'm not seeing red," I said, voice low but final.

Ryan stepped forward. "Layla, please. Don't leave like this. Let's talk-"

"No." I stepped back. "I don't want to talk. I don't want to stand here, breathing the same air with you."

"I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen-"

"Save it." I cut him off. "I don't need your pathetic apology. I'm done."

"Layla," Brielle called after me, her voice losing its smugness. "You're seriously walking away because of him?"

I turned at the door, eyebrows raised. "Are you high? I'm walking away because of both of you. You lied to me. Smiled in my face. And ruined what little faith I had left in people."

"God, you're dramatic."

I stepped back inside for just one second, my eyes sharp and steady now. "No, sweetheart. I'm clear. Crystal clear. You and Ryan? You deserve each other."

It was funny, in a fucked-up way-how life just rips the ground right out from under you. One moment, I was engaged and planning a future. The next? I was unemployed and humiliated, betrayed by the two people I trusted the most.

Hot tears slipped down my cheeks as I dragged my feet along the sidewalk. I had no one to call right now. My best friend was out of town for a work seminar and I didn't want to bother her. My sister was out of the country. And my useless fiancé-well, he was upstairs screwing his "childhood friend."

Bastards.

Ryan cost me the only job I had, and now he got to walk away like none of it mattered. Like I was nothing.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I wasn't going to go home and cry into my pillow like some pathetic woman from a sad rom-com. I needed a distraction.

If I couldn't fix anything, I could at least forget everything for one night.

I didn't want comfort. I wanted chaos. Noise. A strip club was the only place I figured I could get it.