Vincent sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at his phone, the soft glow of the screen casting long shadows on the wall. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that gnawed at his insides and made his thoughts louder. Rody hadn’t been home in days. It wasn’t unusual, not anymore, but it still sent a hollow ache through Vincent’s chest.
A week ago, he had opened up to Rody. Told him how he felt lonely, how they barely spent time together even though they lived under the same roof. It was supposed to be their home, their sanctuary, but more often than not, Vincent found himself alone, staring at the empty side of the bed, the untouched dinner plates, the growing stack of unread texts. When he voiced his concerns, Rody had listened-had smiled, kissed him gently, and promised they would fix things.
That night, Rody had proposed. Right there, in their dimly lit kitchen, he had gotten down on one knee, a ring in his hand, and Vincent’s heart had soared. *He does love me. He wants a future with me.* The memory of Rody’s voice-soft, sincere, full of affection-echoed in Vincent’s head, a cruel contrast to the suffocating emptiness of their apartment now. He had said yes. He had believed in them.
But since then, Rody had been home less than ever before. The excuses piled up-*Work’s crazy,* *The business trip ran over,* *Don’t wait up.* Vincent tried to convince himself it was temporary. *He’s just busy. He’s doing it for us.* But deep down, that sinking feeling had started to settle, weighing heavier each day.
Vincent glanced down at the shirt draped across his lap, his hands trembling slightly as he smoothed out the fabric. That’s when he noticed it-the faint smear of lipstick on the collar. A shade of red that Vincent never wore. His stomach twisted into a knot, bile rising in his throat. He stared at it, his mind scrambling for an explanation. *Maybe it was an accident, maybe he brushed against someone at work.*
But the gnawing suspicion had already taken root, spreading like a sickness. *Why would there be lipstick on his collar?* Vincent’s mind raced, replaying every late night, every unanswered call, every vague excuse. He tried to suppress the rising panic, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop.
*Was there someone else? Was he not enough?*
Vincent couldn’t sleep that night. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the room feeling colder than usual. His fingers absentmindedly twisted the ring on his finger, the symbol of Rody’s promise, but now it felt like a lie. Every time Rody was gone, it was like another piece of Vincent’s sanity slipped away. He had thought that moving in together would bring them closer, but now it felt like they were miles apart, and the distance was suffocating.
The next morning, when Rody left on another “business trip,” Vincent made a decision. He followed him.
He felt like he was suffocating as he drove. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white, heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what he expected to find-some other man’s or woman’s apartment, maybe? Some secret life Rody had kept hidden from him? His mind conjured up a million scenarios, each worse than the last, but none of them prepared him for what he actually found.
Vincent parked a distance away, his breath shallow as he watched Rody pull up to a quaint suburban house. His heart stopped. A woman stepped out onto the porch, smiling brightly, her arms outstretched. She kissed Rody on the cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, like they had done it a thousand times before. And then two children-young, innocent-came running out of the house, laughing as they flung themselves into Rody’s arms.
Vincent couldn’t move. His hands shook, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene unfold. It was like something out of a dream-or a nightmare. The truth hit him like ice water to the chest. Rody had a family. Not a fling, not a secret lover. A family. A wife. Children.
The world seemed to tilt, everything Vincent thought he knew crashing down around him. The man he loved, the man he had trusted with his heart, had been living a double life all along. Vincent wasn’t part of Rody’s world; he was an afterthought, a hidden secret. Something Rody kept tucked away, visiting when it was convenient. The realization was unbearable. He wasn’t just being pushed aside-he had never truly been part of Rody’s life at all.
The sounds of the children laughing, the woman’s voice, all of it blurred into a cacophony in Vincent’s ears. He watched as Rody disappeared inside the house, the door closing behind him as if sealing Vincent out. It was like the door to another world-Rody’s *real* world-and Vincent didn’t belong in it. He was an outsider. A ghost in the life Rody had built with someone else.
Numbness crept through Vincent as he sat in the car, his vision blurry from tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. He felt hollow, like the life had been sucked out of him. The ring on his finger felt heavy now, a cruel reminder of the love he thought he had. He had believed in Rody. He had thought they were building a future together. But now, all he had was the crushing weight of betrayal.
The drive back to the apartment felt like a dream. His mind was spinning, replaying everything over and over. The lipstick on the collar. The late nights. The excuses. The lies. He had been a fool to believe Rody, to think he was special. But what hurt the most wasn’t just the betrayal-it was the realization that Rody had never truly been his. He had been living someone else’s life all along.
When Vincent finally returned to their empty apartment, it felt colder than ever. He collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the door, waiting for Rody to come home. But now, the silence wasn’t just lonely-it was suffocating. Every second dragged on, each breath a struggle as the walls closed in around him.
He wanted to scream, to break something, to tear apart the life they had built together because it had all been a lie. Instead, he sat in the crushing silence, his heart shattered, his soul hollow. He had been nothing more than a secret. Nothing more than a convenience.
And now, all Vincent had left was the suffocating realization that he had never truly known Rody at all.
The apartment felt smaller now, closing in around Vincent as if it were suffocating him. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder with each passing second, echoing in the silence like the beating of a heart too broken to feel anything but pain. He sat there, motionless, staring at the door as if expecting Rody to walk through it at any moment. But he didn’t want that-he couldn’t face him. Not after what he’d seen.
His phone buzzed. A message from Rody.
**”Hey, won’t be back tonight. Got caught up in some meetings. Love you.”**
Vincent’s blood ran cold. The words that had once brought comfort now felt like a knife twisting in his chest. *Love you.* How could Rody say that so easily, like everything was normal? Like he hadn’t just spent the day with his *real* family, living his real life, while Vincent was left to rot in the dark, in the emptiness.
He stared at the message, his hands trembling as anger and heartbreak bubbled to the surface. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and for a moment, all he wanted to do was scream, to lash out, to break everything that reminded him of Rody. The ring on his finger felt like a weight dragging him down, suffocating him under the false promise of a future that would never exist.
Vincent rose from the couch, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, his mind racing. He replayed the scene over and over-Rody’s wife, his kids, the perfect family life that Rody had hidden from him. How long had it been going on? Was he just a distraction? A mistake? Vincent couldn’t bear the thought. He had given everything to Rody, every piece of himself, and in return, he had been kept in the shadows, hidden away like a dirty secret.
His breaths came faster, his chest tightening as the walls seemed to close in on him. His mind flashed back to that day, when Rody had proposed, how Vincent’s heart had soared with hope. He had said he wanted a future together, but now… Now it was clear that Rody had never meant it. Vincent was nothing more than a temporary thrill, a piece of someone else’s life that could be discarded once it became inconvenient.
His phone buzzed again.
**”Miss you.”**
A cruel laugh escaped Vincent’s lips, the sound hollow and bitter. *Miss me?* How could Rody say that when he was out there, living his perfect life with his family? The words felt like poison, each one more twisted and painful than the last.
He couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, the betrayal, the lies. Vincent’s heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of rage and sorrow tearing through him. He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he looked down, the anger coursing through his veins like fire. His thoughts were dark, spiraling further as the night dragged on, but one thought kept rising above the rest:
*I need to confront him.*
Vincent couldn’t live like this, not knowing, not being able to look Rody in the eye and ask why-why he had done this to him, why he had strung him along with promises of love and a future, all the while living a lie. He needed to know if Rody had ever really loved him, or if it had all been some sick game.
The hours passed in agonizing silence until the familiar sound of keys jingling in the lock broke through the next night. The door opened slowly, and there he was-Rody, stepping into their apartment as if nothing had changed. He smiled when he saw Vincent, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hey, babe,” Rody greeted casually, setting his bag down by the door. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
Vincent stood there, frozen, watching Rody move around the room, acting as if everything was fine, as if nothing had happened. It made Vincent sick.
“I wasn’t waiting,” Vincent finally said, his voice colder than he intended. He could feel his heart racing, the weight of everything pressing down on him, suffocating him with each word he didn’t say.
Rody paused, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “You okay?”
Vincent felt the anger boiling over, but he forced himself to stay calm, to hold it in just a little longer. “Yeah. Fine.”
Rody seemed satisfied with that answer, turning back to his routine, heading toward the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Vincent watched him go, his mind racing, heart pounding in his chest. He followed him into the bedroom, his eyes fixed on Rody’s back as he undressed, his shirt sliding off to reveal the familiar shape of his body. The body Vincent had once loved, once cherished, now felt like a stranger’s.
And then Vincent saw it again-the faint trace of lipstick, smeared on the inside of the shirt collar. The same red. The same betrayal.
Something in Vincent snapped.
“You’re cheating on me.” His voice came out harsh, a raw edge to it that made Rody freeze in place.
The room fell silent. Rody turned slowly, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion, then to something darker. “What?”
“You heard me,” Vincent continued, the words tumbling out now, unstoppable. “I know. I saw you. With them.”
Rody’s eyes widened, and for a split second, Vincent saw something-fear, maybe, or guilt-but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a calm, practiced facade. “Vincent, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting?” Vincent’s voice broke, his heart aching as the reality of it all settled in. “You have a family, Rody. A wife. Children. Were you ever going to tell me, or were you just going to keep lying to my face? Were you ever going to give me the truth?”
Rody’s silence was answer enough.
Vincent’s chest tightened, tears welling up in his eyes, his body trembling. The man he loved, the man he had trusted with everything, stood before him, silent, unrepentant. Rody didn’t deny it. He didn’t apologize. He just stared at Vincent, his expression cold, calculating.
Vincent felt like he was drowning. The betrayal cut deeper than any wound he had ever known. He had given Rody everything-his heart, his soul-and in return, he had been given nothing but lies.
“I was never enough for you, was I?” Vincent whispered, the words slipping out in a broken, fragile voice.
Rody didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The truth was written all over his face.
The silence that stretched between them felt like a blade, sharp and cold. Vincent’s heart shattered with every second Rody refused to speak, to explain himself. The weight of the truth was unbearable now, pressing down on him with such force that he could barely breathe.
He had been nothing to Rody. Just a fling, a distraction from his perfect, hidden life. The realization twisted deep inside him, bringing a wave of nausea that made his knees weak. He wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something, but instead, he just stood there, staring at the man he had once loved with everything he had.
Rody turned away from him, slowly pulling on a clean shirt, his movements casual, as if the conversation meant nothing, as if this confrontation was just another inconvenience in his carefully compartmentalized life. “Vincent,” he said at last, his voice low, dismissive, “it’s not what you think.”
Vincent let out a bitter laugh, his hands trembling at his sides. “Then what is it, Rody? Tell me. What the hell is it, if not the fact that you’ve been living a lie this whole time? That I’ve been living a lie?”
Rody exhaled slowly, almost bored. He didn’t even meet Vincent’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” Vincent’s voice rose, the anger flaring again, hot and consuming. “No, it’s not complicated! You lied to me. You let me believe we had a future, that we had something real, while you were-” His voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence, unable to say aloud the truth that was tearing him apart.
“I care about you, Vincent.” Rody’s voice was cool, detached. “But you have to understand, I have responsibilities. You knew what this was.”
Vincent felt his breath catch in his throat. “I *knew* what this was? You didn’t tell me you had a family! You proposed to me, Rody! You asked me to spend my life with you. And now you’re standing here, telling me that I should’ve known this was just some… some fling? Is that all I am to you?”
Rody turned, his face unreadable, his gaze cold. “I didn’t lie to you. I never promised you anything.”
Vincent’s chest ached with the weight of those words. He had spent months, years, believing in Rody, believing that they had something worth holding on to. And now, with just a few words, Rody had ripped it all away, as if it meant nothing.
Vincent stumbled back a step, feeling the walls closing in around him again. His vision blurred with tears, his mind a chaotic swirl of anger and heartbreak. He had never felt so alone, so betrayed.
Rody watched him, expressionless, as if waiting for the inevitable end of the conversation. As if this was just another inconvenience he had to deal with before he could return to his real life.
“I thought you loved me,” Vincent whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of the pain he could no longer contain.
Rody’s silence was deafening.
For a moment, Vincent wished Rody would say something-anything-that could make this hurt less. Some explanation, some excuse, some way to justify the pain that was tearing him apart. But there was nothing. Only the cold, brutal truth that Vincent had been nothing more than a temporary escape for Rody. Nothing more than a lie.
Vincent’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His mind raced, desperate for a way out of this nightmare, desperate to make sense of the chaos that had become his life. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no escaping the truth. There was no way to undo what had been done.
He wiped at his eyes, trying to clear the tears that blurred his vision, but the overwhelming sadness was too much to fight off. His voice trembled as he spoke, barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why did you let me believe-“
“I didn’t ask you to believe anything,” Rody interrupted, his tone sharp, cutting. “You wanted to believe it. That’s on you, Vincent. Not me.”
Vincent’s breath caught in his throat. He staggered back again, as if the words had physically struck him. The world around him seemed to spin, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on him in waves, drowning him in the unbearable reality of it all.
He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg for answers, but he knew there was no point. Rody had made his choice. He had chosen his real life, his real family, and Vincent… Vincent was just the collateral damage. The mistake he could easily leave behind.
Vincent’s heart broke with a final, devastating crack, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears came then, hot and painful, streaming down his face as he choked back sobs. His body trembled with the force of his grief, his legs threatening to give out beneath him as he collapsed into himself, broken and lost.
Rody said nothing. He simply watched, his face unreadable, as if the scene playing out in front of him was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
And in that moment, Vincent realized the horrible truth-Rody had never really cared. Not the way Vincent had. Not the way he had wanted him to. He had been fooling himself all along.
Vincent crumpled to the floor, his sobs echoing in the silent room, his heart shattering into pieces he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to put back together.
And Rody just turned away.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” Rody said, his voice devoid of emotion as he walked toward the door. “You should find somewhere else to stay.”
And with that, Rody left.
Vincent was alone. Alone with the unbearable truth that the man he had loved more than anything in the world had never really been his at all.
The door slammed shut behind Rody, and the sound echoed in the empty apartment like a final, brutal blow to Vincent’s heart. He was alone, utterly and completely, left to rot in the silence that suffocated the room. For a long moment, Vincent didn’t move. His mind was blank, numb from the devastation, as he sat there on the floor, staring at nothing, tears still streaking down his face.
But as the minutes passed, the numbness began to fade. In its place, something darker, colder, began to creep into Vincent’s chest. The sadness he had been drowning in slowly twisted into something else-something that burned deep inside him.
Anger.
It bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, sharp and insidious, a rage so fierce that it shocked him with its intensity. His hands shook, not from heartbreak anymore, but from fury. His breath came quicker, harsher, as the pieces of his broken heart began to piece themselves together, not with sorrow, but with wrath.
How dare Rody do this to him? How dare he lie to him for all those years, leading him on, making him believe they had something real? Vincent had given everything-his love, his time, his life-to Rody. He had moved in with him, built a future in his mind that was nothing more than a cruel illusion.
And all this time… *all this time* Rody had been lying. Hiding a family. A wife. Two children. Vincent had been nothing but a dirty little secret, a mistake in the background of Rody’s perfect life.
His breathing grew ragged as the rage consumed him. His thoughts spiraled, wild and uncontrollable. He had been a fool to think Rody ever truly loved him. But what hurt more than anything was the deception-the years Rody had stolen from him, the years Vincent could never get back. The lies, the manipulation, the *betrayal.*
Vincent’s fists clenched tightly as he stood, his legs unsteady but driven by something raw and violent. He wiped the tears from his face, his jaw tightening as he made his way toward the door. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like the ticking of a bomb ready to explode.
He wouldn’t let this end like this. He couldn’t. The betrayal festered like a poison in his veins, filling every part of him with a deep, unrelenting rage. He had been reduced to nothing, broken by a man who had used him, thrown him away like garbage. But Vincent wasn’t garbage. He wasn’t going to be discarded like some meaningless fling.
Rody had stolen years from him, shattered his heart. And now? Now, Rody would pay.
Vincent’s eyes were dark as he grabbed his keys from the counter, his fingers trembling with fury. He couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts that overwhelmed him. Images of Rody laughing with his wife, holding his children, living his perfect life while Vincent had been left in the shadows. The rage was all-consuming now, burning hotter than ever.
How long had Rody been laughing behind his back? How long had he been living this double life, pretending to care while knowing that he had another life waiting for him elsewhere? The image of Rody’s wife-innocent, blissfully unaware-only added fuel to the fire. Vincent hated her too. Hated that she got to have Rody, got to live the life Vincent had dreamed of.
Vincent’s grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled as he drove, his mind lost in the storm of anger. The night was dark and quiet, but the fury inside him drowned out everything else. His hands were shaking as he pulled up to the house-their house. The house Rody shared with his *real* family.
It was a nice place, Vincent realized bitterly. Quiet, suburban, with a perfectly manicured lawn. The lights were still on inside, a warm glow spilling from the windows. He could see them-Rody, his wife, and their kids-laughing, sitting around the dinner table as if nothing had happened. As if Vincent didn’t exist.
Vincent’s blood boiled at the sight. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, his thoughts spiraling into a twisted, violent place. He had been lied to, used, and now? Now, he wanted them to feel the same pain. The same heartbreak.
The front door was unlocked. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? This was a safe, perfect neighborhood, after all. People like Rody, with their perfect little lives, didn’t worry about the kind of betrayal Vincent had been drowning in for years. He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts consumed by one thing.
Revenge.
Vincent moved silently through the house, his steps deliberate and measured. He knew exactly where they were-he could hear their voices in the dining room, could see their shadows moving through the crack in the door. His breath came in short, ragged bursts as he approached, his hands trembling with the weight of what he was about to do.
He stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Rody’s back. For a moment, he just watched them-the happy, perfect family, oblivious to the storm that was about to tear them apart. And then, without warning, Vincent’s vision went red. His hands moved before he could stop himself, reaching for the knife on the kitchen counter. The blade felt heavy in his hand, but the anger, the betrayal, gave him strength.
Rody’s wife was the first to notice him, her eyes widening in shock as she opened her mouth to scream. But Vincent was quicker. His hand lashed out, the knife slicing through the air with a sickening precision. Her scream died in her throat as the blade found its mark, her eyes wide with terror as she collapsed to the floor, blood pooling around her.
The children screamed, their cries piercing the air, but Vincent didn’t hear them. His focus was on Rody, who had spun around, his face pale with shock and horror.
“Vincent,” Rody breathed, his voice trembling. “What have you done?”
But Vincent didn’t respond. The rage had taken over completely now, blinding him to everything else. He moved toward Rody, the knife still dripping with blood, his mind consumed by one thought: Rody had to pay.
“You lied to me,” Vincent growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You used me.”
Rody backed away, his hands raised in defense, but it was too late. Vincent lunged forward, the knife glinting in the dim light as it plunged into Rody’s chest.
Rody gasped, his eyes wide with pain and shock as he stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor next to his wife. Blood poured from the wound, pooling around him as he choked, his breaths ragged and shallow.
Vincent stood over him, his chest heaving, the knife still clenched tightly in his hand. His heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He looked down at Rody’s broken, bleeding body, and for the first time in years, he felt something other than pain.
He felt powerful.
As Rody’s breaths grew weaker, his eyes glazing over, Vincent knelt down beside him, his voice cold and calm.
“I loved you, Rody. And you took that love and destroyed it.”
Rody’s lips moved, but no words came out. His eyes fluttered closed, and then, with one final, shuddering breath, he was gone.
Vincent stood up slowly, his heart still racing as he looked down at the carnage he had caused.
Vincent didn’t care. He had gotten his revenge. And now, there was nothing left.
Vincent stood in the blood-soaked room, the cold weight of the knife still in his hand. His breath was shallow, each exhale a ragged, shaky effort. The adrenaline coursing through him was beginning to wane, replaced by a slow, creeping realization of what he had done.
The room was dead silent-except for the soft, trembling sobs of the children.
They stood huddled in the corner, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. The sight of them, so small and helpless, broke through the haze of his anger. His heart clenched painfully in his chest.
He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them. Rody’s children-innocent, clueless-had done nothing wrong. They were just as much victims of Rody’s lies as Vincent had been. For the first time since entering the house, guilt began to seep in, overwhelming the rage that had fueled his every move.
His eyes moved away from Rody’s lifeless body, away from the crimson that stained the floor, and he slowly crouched down, placing the knife on the ground. His hands, still shaking, felt heavy with the weight of what he had done.
“I’m… I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. The words felt strange on his tongue, as though they belonged to someone else. But he meant them. Even in the madness of what he’d done, there was still a part of him that refused to harm the innocent. He wasn’t a monster-he didn’t want to be.
The children didn’t move, their wide eyes fixed on him, still frozen in fear. Vincent’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he was unsure of what to do. He had crossed a line tonight, a line he could never uncross. But he couldn’t leave them like this. Not with the horror of what they’d just witnessed.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though the words felt hollow. What good was an apology after something like this? He had taken everything from them-their mother, their father-and now all they had left was fear.
But Vincent couldn’t undo what he had done. He couldn’t take back the knife, or the rage, or the years of betrayal that had pushed him to this breaking point.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the phone in his pocket, dialing the emergency number. His fingers fumbled as he pressed the buttons, his mind still reeling from the weight of it all. He didn’t know what he was going to say, or how he would explain any of this, but he knew one thing for certain: the children needed help. Help that he couldn’t give.
The line connected, and Vincent spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s been an accident,” he said, his throat tightening with each word. “Please… send someone.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He hung up the phone and stood there for a moment, staring at the mess he had created. The blood on the floor, the bodies, the fear in the children’s eyes. This was his doing.
Vincent took a step back, his mind spinning. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t face the consequences of what he’d done-not now. He needed to get out before the authorities arrived, before anyone could piece together the madness of the night.
But as he glanced one last time at the children, huddled together in fear, something inside him cracked.
“Stay safe,” he whispered, more to himself than to them. With that, Vincent turned and slipped out the front door, disappearing into the night.
The cool air hit his face like a slap, shocking him out of the haze of his actions. His legs moved on instinct, carrying him away from the house, away from the scene of his crime. He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do next. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop running.
And as he ran, the weight of his actions bore down on him, heavy and unrelenting. He had taken everything from Rody in a blind fit of rage-but in the end, what had he gained?
Nothing but the crushing emptiness of his own broken heart.
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