Chapter 1

The flimsy foam mask felt suffocating, digging into the sweat on my face. For three years, every dollar I made, every drop of sweat, was for Sophia. Her mother was sick, she' d told me, crushed by a mountain of medical debt that grew bigger every day.

So I worked.

I painted commissioned pieces until my fingers cramped, I delivered food on my bike until my legs burned, and I took odd jobs like this one, playing a monster in a haunted escape room on a Saturday night. Anything for an extra hundred bucks. Anything to see the worry leave Sophia' s eyes, even for a moment.

The air in the narrow, fake-stone hallway was stale and smelled of dust and cheap fog machine fluid. I was supposed to be a "forgotten soul," lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out at the next group of paying customers.

I leaned against the wall, my heart aching with a familiar mix of exhaustion and love. I just wanted to finish this shift, go home to our small apartment, and hold her.

Suddenly, the emergency exit at the end of the hall burst open, flooding the dim space with bright, clean light from the main lobby. The sound of laughter and loud chatter spilled in.

A man and a woman stumbled through, tangled up in each other.

"Liam, slow down! You're going to make me spill my drink," the woman laughed, her voice a melody that shot straight through my foam costume and into my gut.

I knew that voice better than my own.

It was Sophia.

My entire body went rigid. It couldn't be. She was supposed to be at home, resting. She' d said she was feeling drained, worried about her mom.

The man, Liam, was handsome in an easy, confident way. He wore an expensive-looking watch that glinted under the harsh lobby lights. He pulled Sophia closer, his hand possessively on her waist.

"What' s the matter, babe? Scared of a little dark?" he teased.

Friends of theirs followed them in, equally loud and dressed in designer clothes that were worth more than my rent for a year.

"Is this the 'haunted' part? Looks pretty lame," one of the friends said, looking around dismissively.

Sophia, my Sophia, who cried in my arms over bills, who carefully counted every dollar we spent on groceries, giggled. It was a light, carefree sound I hadn' t heard in years. "Don't be mean. It's for charity or something."

Then, her eyes landed on me, the costumed figure in the corner. She didn't recognize me. To her, I was just part of the scenery, a prop.

Liam's friend pointed at me. "Hey, look at this guy. He's not even moving. Is he broken?"

Sophia glanced over, her expression pure annoyance. She walked right up to me. My heart hammered against my ribs. See me, I begged silently. Recognize me.

She reached out and poked my shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger. The fabric of my costume was thin. I felt the pressure of her touch like a brand.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice dripping with a contempt I'd never heard before. "You're in the way."

She shoved me. Not hard, but it was enough to make me stumble back against the wall. The push was a physical dismissal, a shove that said you are nothing.

"Sophia, don't bully the poor workers," Liam chuckled, pulling her back into his arms.

She leaned against him, looking up at his friends. "Please. My boyfriend is one of these poor, struggling types. An artist. You have no idea how draining it is. He works all these pathetic little jobs, thinking he's some kind of hero. It's almost cute, in a sad way."

The world tilted. Her words, so casual, so cruel, slammed into me. My boyfriend. Pathetic little jobs.

"He thinks my mom's sick," she continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "He gives me all his money for her 'medical bills'. The fool."

The laughter from the group was a roar in my ears. It drowned out everything else.

I stood there, frozen inside the cheap costume, hidden from view. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. The physical pain was a distant anchor in a sea of shock and agony.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I just watched as the woman I loved, the woman I was killing myself for, laughed with another man about how cleverly she had destroyed me.