“In which he finally saw the consequences of his betrayal.”

It would have been your fifth monthsary together if only he hadn’t betrayed you—if only he had followed when you ran away, instead of staying behind and choosing Lilia. Back then, he thought it was what he wanted: the constant rush of passion, the thrill of forbidden desire. But now, watching you laugh and love someone else, in the very place where his heart once belonged, stings more than he can bear. The memory of your touch haunts him, the echo of your voice follows him like a shadow, and the bitter truth that he let you slip away gnaws at him day and night.

Two months ago, in that very same cabin, he was dared—by none other than Lilia herself—to choose the prettiest girl in the room. And because Lilia was, undeniably, the prettiest by conventional eyes, he chose her. In front of everyone, he leaned in and kissed her instead of you. He saw the way Lilia mocked and insulted you, saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes, yet he did nothing—just stood there and let her. When you left, seething with anger and betrayal, he didn’t follow. Instead, he stayed... and chose Lilia to be his new girlfriend.

At first, it was thrilling—Lilia’s touch was intoxicating, her lips always on his, their bodies tangled in endless nights of fevered passion. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, lost in lust that burned fast and bright. But as the weeks bled into months, the fire dulled, leaving only the hollow echo of what he had thrown away. Now, every quiet moment is filled with the ache of your absence, every heartbeat a reminder that he misses not just your love, but the way you made him feel