Chapter 3: Old Wounds, New Threats

I drifted off for a moment.

The noise faded into memory. I found myself back in a night that haunted me—three years ago, before everything got complicated. The steakhouse, the laughter, all faded to gray.

Just three years ago, Rachel had been crying and begging me:

I could still see her, mascara smudged, standing in my apartment doorway, voice shaking as she pleaded with me to let Derek go. I could still smell the rain on her coat, the sharp scent of her perfume mixing with wet pavement. The sound of rain tapping the window, her coat dripping onto my carpet.

"Aubrey, just let me have Derek. I liked him first! You have guys lining up for you—why do you have to take him too?"

She’d said it desperately, eyes wide with hope and accusation. I remembered feeling cold, my heart thudding in my chest. There was a wildness to her then—nothing like the poised woman from tonight.

I was always soft-spoken. Sensitive, conflict-averse, and definitely not the type to fight over a guy.

I’d always been the one who backed down from arguments, apologizing first just to keep the peace. The idea of fighting for a man—it just wasn’t me. I almost admired her nerve, even as it scared me.

So I actually hesitated and suggested breaking up with Derek. We hadn’t been together long; it wasn’t that deep yet.

I remembered sitting on the edge of my bed, hands twisting in my lap. I’d stammered out the words, not really meaning them, hoping Derek would stop me. The thought of hurting someone else gnawed at me.

Derek, usually so steady, was so angry his eyes went red. He called Rachel right in front of me and let her have it:

He snatched up his phone, dialing with shaking hands. I’d never seen him like that—voice cracking, words sharp as knives. Even now, the memory made my heart pound.

"I don’t like you. I never will, no matter how many times you say it. I love Aubrey, and that’s not changing. Please stop trying to mess with my life."

He said it all in one breath, voice raw with frustration. I could hear Rachel’s sobs on the other end, muffled but unmistakable. The sound haunted me for weeks.

That night, Rachel got in a car accident driving home, distracted. She spent over two weeks in the hospital. Noah called to yell at us, but Derek never went to visit her.

Noah blamed us both, shouting at Derek over the phone while I stood frozen in the kitchen. Rachel’s parents left angry voicemails, but Derek never budged. The guilt pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

Back then, everyone probably thought I was the winner in this little love triangle.

People whispered that I’d come out on top—won the guy, secured my place. But the victory felt hollow, tinged with guilt and the sick feeling that happiness had come at someone else’s expense.

And now…

Tonight, sitting at this table with everyone watching Rachel, I felt that old anxiety crawl back up my throat. It was like being sixteen again, worried I’d shown up in the wrong outfit to the wrong party.

I suddenly felt anxious, wishing I hadn’t come. I looked up to ask Derek when we could leave, but saw him staring at Rachel.

He was watching her—really watching. The way you watch someone who just told a killer story at a party. My stomach twisted. I felt like I’d just swallowed a mouthful of ice water. I pressed my lips together and looked away.

She’d taken off her jacket, showing off a perfect figure, surrounded by people hanging on her every word.

Her dress clung to her in all the right places, her skin glowing in the low light. She laughed, and the whole table leaned in closer. I felt invisible.

"On the African savanna, I watched a lion and a cheetah fight. In that moment, I felt the pulse of life."

The group gasped, enthralled. Someone muttered, "Damn, that’s wild." I pictured her, camera in hand, chasing after danger like it was a game.

People oohed and aahed. Derek spoke up suddenly.

His voice cut through the chatter, unexpected.

"Guess those years abroad paid off."

It wasn’t a compliment so much as a challenge. I glanced at him, surprised. His jaw was tight, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Rachel looked over, smiled, and replied softly, "They did."

Her words hung in the air, loaded. She held his gaze a beat too long, then looked away, sipping her drink. The tension at the table was thick enough to slice.

Derek said nothing else, looking down and sipping his drink.

He busied himself with his glass, spinning it slowly between his fingers. The conversation drifted on, but I felt the distance between us stretch wider.

I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. I got up and went to the restroom. On the way back, I passed a little terrace and caught sight of Derek and a few guys out there, smoking.

The hallway was chilly, the tile cold against my feet. I heard voices drifting in from outside and stopped short, curiosity winning over pride. I peered through the glass door, seeing them clustered in a circle, smoke curling around their heads.

Their voices drifted over.

A chorus of laughter, punctuated by the clink of beer bottles. I caught Derek’s voice, low and hard, somewhere in the middle.

"Rachel’s out of our league now. Derek, you’ve been so cold to her—never tempted? Never regretted it?"

The question hung in the air, half challenge, half envy. Someone nudged Derek’s arm, waiting for him to fumble.

Derek’s voice was flat.

He sounded tired, not angry. Just done with the whole thing.

"The colder I am, the better for her. Isn’t it good? She became amazing, and I didn’t hold her back. So let’s drop it."

There was a finality to his words, like he’d rehearsed them a hundred times. I wondered if he believed it.

"Yeah, whatever. Look how closely your wife’s watching you—someone who never goes out actually showed up tonight. Honestly, even if she caught you cheating, she probably wouldn’t let you go! Hahaha…"

Their laughter rolled out, sharp and mean. My face flushed hot. For a second, I wanted to burst through the door and tell them to shut up, but my feet stayed glued to the floor.

They all laughed and left, leaving Derek and Noah alone.

Footsteps faded, leaving only the low hum of the city. Derek and Noah lingered on the terrace, voices muffled but tense.

Noah grinned.

I could picture his smirk, hands stuffed in his pockets, always the troublemaker.

"You know what? Rachel’s still saving herself for you..."

A beat—

The silence after those words was electric, like waiting for a storm to break.

"Cut it out."

Derek’s voice was ice cold.

I heard the warning—a boundary, sharp and final. Noah muttered something I couldn’t hear and stomped out his cigarette.