BETRAYED LOVE

Angela stood by the window, staring out into the cold, snowy night. The lights of the city twinkled in the distance, but they did little to soothe the ache in her chest. Every inch of her body ached, not from the physical wounds that had healed, but from the pain of betrayal—the deep, gnawing hurt that had embedded itself into her soul.

The hospital room felt like a prison. The white walls, the antiseptic smell, the hushed voices of nurses and doctors—it all felt suffocating. She could barely remember the last time she had felt alive. The vibrant, fiery woman she once was seemed like a distant memory, washed away by the tides of hurt and loss.

Her eyes flicked to the clock, and she sighed. It was late—too late to be thinking about anything. But she couldn't stay here. Not tonight. She needed to breathe, to be anywhere but here, surrounded by pity and sterile healing.

Without thinking twice, she reached for her purse. She slipped on her jacket, making sure to mask her emotions behind the fabric of her clothes. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself. She wanted to feel… something else.

She glanced back at the empty hospital room, took a deep breath, and stepped quietly into the hallway. Her heart beat faster with each step, the silence of the night offering only the sound of her soft footsteps as she moved toward the back exit. The nurse's station was just a few feet away, but the darkness was her ally tonight.

No one stopped her. No one cared.

As soon as Angela stepped out of the hospital, the cold night air hit her skin like a slap, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt alive. The weight of her own thoughts lifted slightly as she inhaled the crisp air, her breath fogging in the chill. The snowflakes danced in the air, catching the light of the streetlamps as they swirled down to settle on the ground. It was a beautiful sight, one that almost distracted her from the gnawing emptiness inside.

Her legs moved of their own accord, pulling her toward the familiar neon lights of the bar. She could almost hear the raucous laughter and see the smiles of her old friends. She needed this. She needed to forget.

The bar was busy, but in a comforting way. The low hum of chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the pulse of music filled her senses. This was where she had lived before—where her life was messy, fun, and uncomplicated. Where she had laughed freely and danced without care. Where no one knew about the pain she hid inside.

Angela stepped inside, the warmth from the bar hitting her immediately. Her friends, scattered around a table in the back, greeted her with surprised looks and loud cheers. They hadn't seen her in weeks, but tonight, she was determined to show them the version of herself that existed before everything fell apart.

"Angela!" one of her old friends, Melissa, shouted above the music, pulling her into a tight hug. "You're here! You've been MIA for ages."

"I know," Angela laughed, her voice almost foreign to her own ears. "But tonight… I just needed to get out."

They all grinned, their faces familiar, their presence comforting in a way she hadn't realized she needed. The laughter felt different, freer. For the first time in a while, Angela allowed herself to feel a tiny spark of joy.

The alcohol came quickly, a steady stream of shots and drinks, each one numbing the edges of her pain just a little more. Angela didn't care what she drank or how much. She needed to drown the voice in her head, the one that reminded her of her fractured family, the deception, and the endless cycle of betrayal.

Before long, Angela was on the dance floor, her body moving to the beat without thought. The music was loud, thumping in her chest like the beat of her heart. She danced wildly, laughing with abandon. The crowd around her seemed to blur as the alcohol took full effect. She was a woman free, unburdened by her past, at least for tonight.

Her movements were exaggerated, carefree. The woman who once carried the weight of the world on her shoulders was now spinning and twirling with a reckless joy she hadn't known in months. She smiled, feeling the rhythm deep in her bones.

It was all a blur of lights, music, and laughter. She didn't care who saw her, who judged her. She was alive.

Angela was swept into the circle of her friends, laughing and catching her breath. The night had taken a turn toward something familiar—something they used to do often back in the days when life was simpler. A game of truth or dare.

"Okay, Angela," her friend Sarah said, her eyes mischievous. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Angela replied, her voice laced with laughter. She had nothing to hide, nothing to lose.

Sarah's grin widened. "I dare you to dance with the first guy you see in this bar, no holding back. Go!"

Angela raised an eyebrow but didn't hesitate. She scanned the room, catching the eyes of a stranger sitting at the bar. He was tall, with dark hair and sharp features, but his eyes were warm and inviting. Without thinking, Angela walked over to him, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and the lingering effects of the alcohol.

"Dance with me?" she asked, her voice flirtatious.

The man grinned, clearly not expecting this, but he stood and took her hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

The music shifted into a slower beat, but Angela couldn't care less. She danced like no one was watching, her body moving against his in ways that felt liberating. It was as though she were shedding the last remnants of her past, dancing away the last traces of her sorrow.

They moved together, a blur of heat and rhythm, but Angela couldn't ignore the quiet part of her mind—the one that kept telling her this was all temporary. This wasn't real.

Still, she pushed the thought away and continued to dance. For tonight, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

As the game continued, the alcohol weighed heavily on her, and the night wore on. But something shifted in Angela. The laughter of her friends began to feel distant. The voices faded, and her mind returned to that sharp clarity she had been trying to escape all night.

What am I doing?

The thought hit her like a wave, knocking the breath out of her chest. She had come here to forget, to run away from the people who had betrayed her, from the pain of watching her family crumble. But now, in this loud, crowded room, it all felt meaningless.

Her gaze wandered to the bar once more, and her breath caught in her throat.

Jonas.

He was sitting at the bar, his presence undeniable. He was alone, nursing a drink, but his sharp eyes were fixed on her, unwavering. There was no mistaking the intensity of his gaze.

Angela froze. The last thing she expected was for Jonas to show up here, in this place, at this moment. Her body tensed, and for the first time in hours, she felt the weight of her decisions settle back on her shoulders.

Jonas didn't speak, didn't move. His eyes simply watched her, as if waiting for something. Angela's heart beat faster, and the dance floor around her suddenly seemed less inviting. The freedom she had been chasing evaporated, leaving only the cold reality of her situation.

She could feel the weight of his gaze, the questions hanging between them like a sword ready to drop. Would he confront her? Would he call her out in front of everyone?

Her mind raced, and for the first time tonight, the alcohol didn't seem to help.

Angela stood there, frozen for a moment, trapped between the past and the present. She wasn't sure how long she stood there before she turned away, needing to escape from the weight of Jonas's stare.

But one thing was certain: she couldn't outrun the past forever.

He might not remember her but she remembered, him the best spy in the entire FBI CIA agents.