Lyra's fork clattered against her plate. "I didn't do that!"
The staff exchanged uneasy glances as the romantic dinner spiraled further into chaos.
Lucas shoved a hand into his pocket and tossed a stack of photographs across the table. They scattered like evidence of a crime—images of Lyra, unmistakably, slipping into a stranger's house under the cover of darkness.
"What do you say to this?" Lucas demanded.
Lyra's eyes flicked to the photos. She picked them up, one by one, her fingers trembling slightly. She pinch the bridge of her nose as she recognized the place.
"Lucas… you're jumping to conclusions," she said, exhaling sharply.
"What? That's proof! Don't you see it?" he insisted.
"That's Mrs. Lancaster's house," Lyra said, her voice calm, measured. "I'm the family doctor, and Mr. Roger is the neighbor. He just waiting outside, worried…"
"There… you just said it," Lucas hissed, jabbing a finger toward her.
"Said what?" Lyra blinked, confused.
"Mr. Roger was there…" Lucas's voice rose. "Don't tell me nothing happened, Lyra!"
"Enough, Lucas!" She slammed the photos back onto the table. "I will not stand here and be insulted."
She rose abruptly, the chair falling with a dull thud.
"Lyra!"
She walked away without looking back.
Their wedding was only two days away. People often said it was normal for couples to quarrel before such a big day. But Lucas was really starting to get on Lyra's nerves.
Lyra strode out of the restaurant and headed to the roadside, quickly hailing a cab. Not far behind, Lucas came running, his coat flaring as he clutched it with one hand.
"Lyra!" he shouted, sprinting after her, and caught her before she could reach the cab.
Her gaze fell, the world around her blurring, and shame washed over her—she felt like she'd hit rock bottom under his accusations.
Lucas froze at the sight of her tears. He wrapped his arms around her, as if he could console her. But Lyra, her heart torn, broke free, her hands trembling against his chest.
"Lyra, I—"
Lyra raised her hand, refusing to listen any longer. "I'm tired. So please… let me go."
She slipped into the waiting cab.
As the door shut, the car pulled away, disappeared into traffic. Lucas cursed under his breath and flung his coat to the ground in frustration.
From a distance, an office-clad woman cheerfully watching scene before her. When the cab drove away, she quickened her pace towards him.
"Mr. Arden," she called. It was none other than his secretary, also the one who reported every move his fiancée made.
"Miss Klein, what are you doing here?" Lucas exclaimed, startled by her sudden appearance.
"I'm worried… was she upset?" she asked softly, full of concern.
Lucas assumed she meant Lyra.
"Yeah… I crossed the line," he admitted, regret coloring his voice as he thought about what he done.
"Definitely not," Nadia said, her lips curling into a faint smile.
"As her future husband, what you did was right. But look at her…" She stopped abruptly when Lucas's frown deepened.
'Wrong move Nadia!'
"…D—Don't worry. She'll be fine by tomorrow." she quickly added, trying to cover up her words.
Lucas didn't respond, lost in the storm of his own thoughts.
The romantic dinner he'd planned which meant to mend a week's distance, now lay in ruins. Nadia had handed him a stack of photos, claiming Lyra had been seen entering another man's house in the dead of night.
One image showed Lyra in a man's arms. Lucas had torn it to shreds in anger as he refusing to look again. He'd told Lyra he'd witnessed it himself. It's a lie because Nadia had begged him to say it that way, terrified Lyra would discover where the accusation truly came from.
He grabbed his coat from the floor and headed for his car.
Nadia watched his retreating figure, felt a quiet thrill rise within her. She had fallen for him long ago, but Lucas had never once looked at her the way he looked at Lyra. And so she acted — weaving lies, feeding his doubts, twisting every truth.
And with his jealous nature, her poison took root — growing until he could no longer see the truth.