Chapter 3: Betrayal Revealed—Truth and Tears

Then he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and handed it to me. The gesture was deliberate, almost gentle, but there was something final about it.

He tapped the screen a few times, pulling up a series of photos. My hands shook as I took the phone. Even before I looked, I knew something was wrong. My stomach turned to ice.

In the photos, Tyler was in bed with another woman—arms wrapped around her, both of them laughing, totally oblivious to the world. The proof was clear, brutal. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

The second I saw Tyler tangled up with someone else, my heart dropped into an icy pit. I stared at the screen, breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The pain was sharp, almost physical. I wanted to scream, to cry, to run away.

Uncle Mark shot Tyler a look of pure disdain, then smiled. The smirk on his lips said it all. I felt a weird sense of satisfaction—at least someone was on my side.

"Brianna, your taste in men isn’t very good." His words were blunt, but there was sympathy there, too. He wasn’t judging me, just telling me the truth. I nodded, tears streaming down my face, unable to argue.

Uncle Mark didn’t even look at Tyler directly. His attention was all on me, like Tyler didn’t even exist. It was weirdly comforting, being the center of his focus, even as everything else fell apart.

On the screen, Tyler looked panicked, trying to defend himself. He stammered, words tumbling over each other, face red and desperate. I watched, numb to his excuses. The trust was gone, shattered.

"Brianna, this guy’s crazy! Why did he break into your room and start talking nonsense? Don’t believe him! You have to believe me—I’ve always only loved you!" Yeah, right. Like I was supposed to believe him now.

His voice was frantic, pleading. But the evidence was right there. I wanted to believe him, to hold on to the fantasy, but the truth was staring me in the face. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Because that shirt he’d tossed carelessly at the foot of the bed—that was the first anniversary gift I’d given Tyler. Seeing it crumpled like trash was a punch to the gut. I’d spent weeks picking it out, wanting it to mean something. Now it was just another thing he’d thrown away.

It hit me hard. He’d tossed my gift aside, just like he’d tossed aside my feelings. All the late-night calls, the sweet texts, the promises—they were nothing. I was disposable, just like that shirt.

I stared at Tyler, not saying a word. My disappointment must have been written all over my face. Tyler wilted, his bravado gone. There was nothing left to say.

I thought back—over a year together, and he’d chased me for three months before I said yes. I remembered the flowers, the notes, the late-night drives. He’d been so persistent, so charming. I thought he really cared. Now, all of it felt fake.

All those promises of love, the vows of loyalty—they were laughable now. I felt stupid for believing him. The pain was sharp, but there was relief, too. At least I finally knew the truth.

Uncle Mark saw the sadness in my eyes, but he didn’t say a word. He just watched, steady and patient, letting me feel what I needed to feel. That silent support meant more than any words.

He set the phone down on the table, then beckoned me over with a gentle curl of his finger, a small smile on his lips. I hesitated, but the warmth in his eyes pulled me in. I took a shaky step forward, drawn by the comfort he offered.

"Come here." His voice was deep, a little intimidating, but I couldn’t bring myself to disobey. There was something about the way he said it—like a promise of safety. My feet moved before my brain caught up.

I found myself gripping the hem of my skirt tighter as I walked over. My hands trembled, the cool fabric grounding me. Every step brought me closer to the comfort I needed.

When I was a kid, if I got sad, Uncle Mark would call me over, scoop me up, and rub my back until I calmed down. I remembered those nights—waking up from nightmares, crying, and he’d hold me, humming softly. Those memories were a lifeline now.

This time was no different. He reached for me, his touch gentle but firm, and I melted into his arms. The pain faded a little, replaced by his steady warmth.

He picked me up, wiped my tears away with his fingertips, and asked softly, "Do you like the skirt I got you?" His voice was soft, almost teasing. I nodded, unable to speak. The question meant everything. He wanted me to remember I was still loved, still beautiful.

I bit my lip and nodded, tears streaming. The gesture was small, but it felt huge. My heart ached, but there was gratitude, too. I clung to him, letting the tears fall. For the first time in ages, I felt seen.

In Uncle Mark’s arms, I felt like a fragile little animal, quietly crying. His embrace was soft, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. The world faded away until it was just the two of us. I let myself be vulnerable, trusting him to hold me together.

Tyler had cheated, and the bitterness in my chest was sharp and raw. The betrayal stung, but there was closure, too. I didn’t have to wonder anymore. The truth was out, and I could finally move on.

Tyler was still on the phone, frantically listing every good thing he’d ever done, begging for a second chance. His voice was muffled and desperate. He rattled off memories, gifts, inside jokes—anything to win me back. But the words felt empty, echoes of a love that had already ended.

But I knew, once someone cheats, you can never trust them again. The lesson was brutal, but it was what I needed. I deserved better. I wiped my eyes, bracing myself for whatever came next.

If he betrayed me once, how could I ever forgive him? The question echoed, but deep down I already knew the answer. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t pretend it was okay.

Uncle Mark saw the pain and gently brushed my bangs aside, tucking them behind my ear. His touch was warm, fingers gentle. He smiled, eyes full of understanding. The little gesture felt intimate, like a silent promise.

"Don’t want to listen anymore?" His voice was gentle, and I nodded, tears still in my eyes. I shook my head, unable to speak. Just the thought of hearing Tyler’s voice made me sick. Uncle Mark understood.

He picked up the phone and hit mute. The room fell quiet, and I let out a shaky breath. The sudden silence was a relief. Uncle Mark set the phone aside, his attention all on me.

He reached out and gently lifted my face, making me look at him. His touch was soft but insistent. I met his gaze, searching for comfort. The ache in my chest eased, just a little.

Tear stains streaked my cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb, lingering for a moment. The gesture grounded me, made me feel safe.

My fingers were still clamped around the hem of my skirt, cold and stiff. I couldn’t let go. He noticed, his eyes softening. He gently pried my fingers loose, wrapping his warm hands around mine. The warmth seeped in, chasing away the chill.

He looked at me with a depth of affection that made my breath catch, his tone gentle but unwavering as he said, "The skirt I bought is just for you to wear for me, okay? You understand?" His words were soft, but they wrapped around me like a promise. I nodded, feeling oddly comforted by the possessiveness. It was probably wrong, but I felt wanted.

His low, commanding voice echoed in my ears, wrapping me in warmth. I closed my eyes, letting the words settle. For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.

I couldn’t say anything. The silence was heavy, but I trusted him to lead. I let myself be vulnerable, knowing he’d catch me if I fell.

Then, suddenly, Uncle Mark took my cold, trembling hands and wrapped them in his own. His grip was steady, grounding. He squeezed gently, and the warmth started to thaw the ice inside me.

His warmth seeped into me, slowly melting the chill that had settled in my chest. The pain faded, replaced by the comfort of his presence. I leaned in, letting the tears fall.

"Hey, it’s okay. Just listen to me, don’t cry anymore, alright?" His voice was soft and steady in my ear. I sniffled, wiping my eyes. The words gave me something to hold onto, something solid.

"Don’t be sad. I’m still here for you, you know?" His voice was gentle, teasing even. I managed a shaky smile, nodding. He hugged me tighter, his arms a safe haven.