Part 3I Want No Part In Their Love Triangle

The weather was gorgeous the day I signed the final real estate contracts and secured the cash.

I transferred the massive sum into an international bank account, finalized my leave of absence from the university, and secured my student visa.

That weekend, a mutual friend hosted a massive party at a private club downtown and invited me.

I knew Grayson, Silas, and Cynthia would all be there. To avoid drawing any suspicion before my flight, I agreed to go.

Inside the neon-lit private room, the drinks were flowing, and someone brought out a deck of cards for a dare game.

After a few rounds, Cynthia shook a deck of custom cards in her hand and giggled. "Let's play the King's Game! Whoever draws the King gets to command any two numbers to do whatever they want!"

The room erupted in cheers. Grayson and Silas both nodded along, completely indulging her.

Naturally, Cynthia pulled the King on the very first round.

She stood up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I command number two and number five to recreate the classic Titanic pose right in the middle of the room!"

Everyone immediately scrambled to check their cards.

I flipped mine over. It was a two.

Across the room, Grayson scowled and tossed his card onto the table. A five.

The room instantly exploded into deafening whistles and cheers.

"Rachel, this is your moment!"

"Grayson, don't just sit there! Get up and hold her!"

The crowd physically pushed me until I was standing awkwardly next to the low glass coffee table in the center of the room.

Grayson was shoved toward me, his face twisted in utter reluctance.

Silas was sitting on the leather sofa, laughing along. "Come on, Grayson, just get it over with. Rachel, open your arms."

I stiffly raised my arms and closed my eyes, refusing to look at the disgust I knew was written all over Grayson's face.

But the embrace never came. Instead, a massive force slammed into my back.

It was Cynthia. She had lunged forward, throwing her arms around my waist from behind, laughing hysterically at Grayson. "Grayson, look! Isn't this exactly the same thing?"

The moment her weight hit me, my heels slipped on the slick floor. I lost my balance completely and tipped backward.

With a sickening crash, I slammed into the floor. The back of my head struck the sharp, heavy corner of the glass coffee table.

Pain exploded behind my eyes, blinding me with a flash of pure white light.

The heavy table tipped. Bottles of liquor, buckets of ice, and sticky mixers crashed down, soaking me in freezing, stinging alcohol.

The entire room went dead silent for a fraction of a second.

And then, I heard it. A sharp, undisguised scoff from Grayson.

He didn't even look down at me. He just crossed his arms and muttered to the guy next to him, "What a buzzkill."

Silas barely even frowned. "Rachel, why are you always so clumsy? It was just a game."

Not a single person reached out to help me up.

Every eye in the room was fixed on Cynthia, who had also fallen to her knees. Her eyes were already brimming with fake, watery tears.

Grayson instantly dropped to the floor, pulling her into his chest, his voice dripping with tender concern. "Are you hurt? It's okay, it wasn't your fault. She just couldn't keep her balance."

The throbbing in the back of my skull was blinding. I lay on the freezing, sticky floor, completely drenched and looking like absolute trash.

Without saying a single word, I pushed myself off the ground, bypassed the crowd, and walked straight out of that suffocating, noisy room.

In that moment, I felt nothing but profound relief that the house was sold, the visa was stamped, and my bags were packed.

Only three days left.

The third day happened to be my birthday.

Maybe Silas felt a tiny shred of guilt over the club incident, because he sent me a text that morning. "Happy birthday, Rachel. I booked the best window table at The Apex for seven tonight. Don't be late."

A few hours later, Grayson's text came through. "Happy birthday. Cynthia didn't mean to push you the other night, so drop the attitude. We're taking you out for dinner tonight to celebrate."

I stared at the two messages, feeling absolutely nothing.

I decided to treat it as a final farewell tour.

I replied with a simple "Okay" to both of them.

As the sun set, I took a cab to the luxury rooftop restaurant.

It was the exact same corner table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the glittering skyline of the city.

The scene played out exactly like my past life. Back then, I had worn the expensive dress Grayson bought me. We hadn't even ordered appetizers before Cynthia called in a panic, and both of them sprinted out the door.

I had sat at this exact table from seven in the evening until the kitchen closed.

They never came back. My calls went to voicemail. My texts were left on read.

I endured the pitying looks of the waitstaff and the awkward stares of the other diners, burning with humiliation.

It wasn't until midnight that I saw Cynthia's social media post.

She was wearing a stunning princess gown, holding a massive, custom cake, laughing brightly. Grayson and Silas were standing on either side of her, looking at her like she was the center of their universe.

The caption read, "Dragged my two knights in shining armor out for late-night cake! Who says you need a birthday to celebrate?"

My birthday meant absolutely nothing compared to her spontaneous cravings.