Bound by lies, Trapped by Desire - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

My heart plummets.
My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I stare, frozen, at the scene before me.
The room reeks of sweat and sex, I can’t help but tremble.
And there he is.
Dmitri.
My fiancé.
The man I was supposed to marry.
Groveling at my feet, tangled in his own damn pants as he fumbles to cover himself. His face is pale, his hair disheveled, his lips—those same lips that whispered loving words into my ears—swollen from kissing someone else.
A woman—a stranger—lays half-naked on the bed behind him, the silk sheets tangled around her body as she scrambles away like a cornered animal. Her eyes dart to mine in wide-eyed panic before she clutches the blanket to her chest and bolts toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Coward.
Dmitri stares up at me, panic laced in his voice. "Elena—it's not what it looks like."
A hollow laugh escapes me. Cold. Emotionless. Clearly the laugh of a woman who has lost everything.
I take a step closer, my heels clicking against the polished hardwood floor. I feel detached from my own body, as if I'm watching this play out from somewhere far, far away.
"Not what it looks like?" I repeat softly, tilting my head.
Dmitri, the man who once promised me forever, dares to feed me that cliché excuse.
A lump lodges in my throat, burning like acid.
"Dmitri," my voice is eerily calm, my hands trembling with suppressed rage, "I just buried my father."
His eyes flicker with guilt, but his lips part uselessly, searching for words.
"I came here because I—I needed you." My voice cracks, raw with heartbreak. "And I find you like this?"
I gesture to the bed—our bed—where another woman had just lain underneath him. The sheets I had picked out. The mattress we had chosen together. The room that was supposed to be ours.
Dmitri pushes to his feet, his pants still unbuttoned, his entire existence suddenly repulsive. He reaches for me. "Please, I—"
"Don't touch me."
My voice is sharper than I intend, but the thought of his hands on me now makes my skin crawl.
His face twists, desperation seeping into his features. "It was a mistake! I wasn’t thinking—"
I scoff, my arms folding tightly over my chest. "Oh? Your dick just happened to slip into her?"
Dmitri flinches. "Elena—"
"Shut up."
My breath is ragged. My vision blurs, but I refuse to cry. I refuse to break down in front of him.
I should be screaming. I should be throwing things, clawing at him, making him bleed the way he's just made me bleed. But I can't. I'm too numb.
Too shattered.
A part of me—a stupid, naive, pathetic part—wants him to fight for me.
To drop to his knees. To beg. To convince me that this isn’t real, that this is just some nightmare I’ll wake up from.
But I don't wake up.
I just stand there, breathing in the reality of it all.
"You said you loved me."
Dmitri swallows hard. "I do."
My laugh is bitter. "You have a funny way of showing it."
Silence.
Maybe if this was the past me. Even the ‘me’ from yesterday, I would have screamed. I would have cursed him out. But now? I was already exhausted. Half my world had already shattered this morning.
So, instead, I inhale sharply and turn on my heel, my heart pounding against my ribs.
I need to leave.
Now.
"Elena, wait!" Dmitri grabs my wrist, his grip desperate, but I rip myself free with such force that he stumbles back.
The love I had for him dies in that moment.
I don’t even look back as I walk away. Leaving our apartment. I walk in a daze, my mind completely lost to mourning my step-father, mourning the marriage life that I knew wouldn’t happen anymore.
My parent’s house is dark when I step inside.
The funeral was in the morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. And now, it’s night.
Everything feels different. Colder. Like the walls know what I’ve seen tonight, know that I am no longer the same woman who left this house earlier.
I swallow the lump in my throat and walk deeper inside, my heels clicking against the wooden floor.
"Mom?" I call softly.
She must be sleeping. I had left her resting in her bedroom when I went to see Dmitri. God, I wish I hadn’t gone.
I wipe at my eyes, barely aware of the way my body shakes. The exhaustion crashes into me like a freight train.
One step. Then another.
I reach the kitchen, my fingers gripping the doorframe, ready to head upstairs—
Then I see her.
A choked gasp rips from my throat.
My mother.
She’s on the floor.
"Mom?" My voice trembles.
She doesn’t move.
The room spins. My breath catches. No. No, no, no.
I stumble forward, collapsing onto my knees beside her. My hands shake violently as I reach for her, pressing my fingers to her neck, checking for breath, for warmth, for anything—
She’s burning.
Her skin is clammy, her forehead damp. And there—little red splotches marring her arm.
Burns.
What happened?
"Mom!" I shake her. Hard. "Mom, wake up! Please!"
She doesn’t stir.
The air leaves my lungs.
No. No. NO.
Please, God. Not her. Not her too.
My pulse roars in my ears, drowning everything else out as I grab my phone, my fingers fumbling, my vision blurring.
My heart slams against my ribs.
My throat tightens.
Tears blind me.
But there’s no time to panic.
I dial.
The ringing feels endless.
Then—
“911, what’s your emergency?”
I swallow a sob.
"My mother—she’s unconscious. Please. Please hurry."
The operator starts talking, but I can barely hear.
I press my forehead to my mother’s, my body trembling.
“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Please, Mom. Stay with me.”