And then I saw her.

A young woman in a tight red dress stepped out, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back.

Rage boiled inside me. After everything, he was doing it again. I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself.

I called Diana.

When she arrived, I pointed her to room 512. She stormed up, knocked hard, and when the door swung open, there he was—shirtless, looking like he’d just been caught in the middle of something.

“D-Diana?! Mia? What are you—”

“Save it,” Diana snapped. “Who is she?”

His mistress appeared behind him, lipstick smeared, hair a mess.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Diana said, her voice shaking. “You broke more than my trust today, David.”

A week later, Diana and I moved out. She refused to let me stay elsewhere. “You’re the only person I can trust right now,” she said.

Dad has been calling and texting nonstop, begging for a second chance.

But some betrayals can never be undone.