Fixing Celia

They say betrayal never comes from your enemies.

I used to think that was just something people said to feel better about their broken hearts. Until mine shattered too.

The night it happened, everything changed.

I lost my best friend. I lost my boyfriend. But worst of all... I lost myself.

It's funny how a single moment can split your life into before and after.

Before, I was the girl who believed in love, in loyalty, in forever.

After, I was the girl standing in the ruins of what used to be her world, gasping for air, screaming into the silence, wondering why.

Why me? Why now? Why them?

So, I ran. Packed what was left of me and left the pieces behind-what else could I do?

I moved cities. Moved in with my cousin. I told myself I needed a break, a fresh start.
I told myself I wasn't looking for anyone. I was here to rebuild, quietly, carefully.

Just me and the pain that still lived under my skin.

But then... I saw him. At the club.

Dark suit. Brooding eyes. Hands in his pockets like the world bowed at his feet.
He didn't just walk in; he owned the room.

The kind of man who didn't need to speak to be heard.

I didn't know his name. I didn't know his story. But I felt his eyes on me like a touch that burned.

He was power.

He was danger.

He was everything I told myself to avoid.

But as fate would have it, the man who never chased anyone... noticed the broken girl who stopped believing in love.

And maybe-just maybe-he'd be the one to help me believe again.

This isn't a love story. Not yet.

This is the story of how I broke... And how he found every shattered piece.