Page 67 of Double Standards

Sliding the key into the lock, I pause for a moment, bracing myself. The door creaks open, and the familiar space greets me.

But something feels off.

My eyes immediately scan the room, like I’m playing some twisted version of spot the difference. Only this game is child’s play compared to what I’m searching for.

Shoes—two sets—sprawled carelessly across the floor.

I spot the black stiletto, just lying there.

I pick it up, fingers curling tightly around it until my knuckles blanch white. This isn’t just a shoe. It’s a message. And suddenly, the chaos in my life feels far too close to home.

Loud banging echoes from the other end of the apartment, raw moans filling the cramped space I once called home—the place I paid for with my own sweat and blood.

Heat surges through my veins, a burning fire that claws its way up my neck and lodges deep in my chest. My eyes catch the bra draped over the edge of the couch, then drift down to the t-shirt carelessly tossed on the floor.

I move silently, each step measured and deliberate, weaving through the chaotic trail of discarded clothes strewn across the hallway. I already know what waits on the other side of that door, but dread weighs so heavy in my lungs it’s hard to breathe.

Still, my hand doesn’t leave the doorknob.

I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to know. But I have to. I need to witness his betrayal with my own eyes.

I push the door open just enough to peer inside—and there, tangled in the sheets, is Cooper.

I’m frozen in place. That burning heat inside me is replaced by a cold, repulsive chill that seeps into every nerve ending, numbing me to the core.

The shoe in my hand flies before I can even form the words. The heel connects with Cooper’s forehead, knocking him off balance. A drop of blood slips down his face, but I don’t care—my anger is too fierce, too raw.

All the years we’ve spent together flood through my mind in a crushing rush. I can’t breathe. I can’t focus. I need to get out of here.

“Cass!” Cooper’s voice cracks as he clutches the sheets to hischest like it’ll hide his shame. Stupidity must have taken over because he just revealed the woman beneath him—an impeccably beautiful brunette with piercing hazel eyes and full lips. Her effortless beauty stings, making me feel small, with nowhere else to look.

She screams, shrinking under the covers as far as she can, while I fight against the burning mix of humiliation and rage coursing through me.

“What the fuck!” I scream, voice raw and ragged, the embers of fury flickering and then exploding.

“Cass, please!” Cooper lunges for me, but I’m already turning on my heel, out of reach. I hear the dull thud as his body hits the floor. But I don’t waste another second inside the apartment. I can’t bear to be in the same space as him, breathing the same air as him. I storm out, mind foggy, vision blurred, moving through the pounding rain as if in a daze—until the realization hits me.

I came in Lexie’s car.

Cooper’s footsteps follow me, his bare feet pacing on the soaked pavement. I can’t bring myself to look at him as I head for Lexie’s car. My hands tremble, my chest aches with shock and humiliation. I vaguely hear him calling after me, but I’m too numb to respond.

The key is already in the ignition before I even realize it. Without a second thought, I’m peeling away from the curb, the tires spinning through puddles as I drive into the storm. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts I don’t want to face—pain, betrayal, humiliation—swirling into one suffocating knot. But there’s only one place I want to be.

The rain blurs the city lights, turning the roads into a seamless, gray blur. It’s not just the downpour that distorts everything; it’s the fog clouding my mind, making everything feel unreal. My clothes cling to my skin, soaked through and chilled to the bone, and I curse myself for not grabbing a coat.Worse, I didn’t even think to grab anything—no bag, no jacket, nothing but the anger pounding in my chest.

“Fuck!” I scream into the empty car, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. There are no tears, no desperate sobs—just a raw, burning anger mixed with deep embarrassment.

The realization sinks in slowly, cold and relentless like the rain soaking me through. Questions ricochet inside my head—Who was that girl? How long has this been going on? I don’t want to think about her, but one detail keeps clawing its way to the surface.

She wasn’t surprised.

Sure, she gasped when I burst in, naked and exposed, but there was no doubt in her eyes about who I was. No confusion, no hesitation. This wasn’t a one-time mistake or a momentary lapse. This was routine.

My hands tremble on the steering wheel as I navigate streets that feel both unfamiliar and somehow deeply familiar. It’s like I’m moving through a fog, every turn automatic, every street name passing unnoticed. Deep down, I know where I’m headed—even though my mind refuses to admit it. The rain intensifies, pounding against the windshield in a relentless sheet, blurring the world outside and doing nothing to quell the storm raging inside me.

The wipers struggle to keep up, their steady swish barely registering over the pounding in my chest. I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles whitening, but it doesn’t help. The anger and humiliation swirl inside, freezing my thoughts even as my body continues moving forward.

Without thinking, I pull to a stop. The car idles in the quiet darkness, headlights casting weak shadows that dance across wet pavement. I sit there for a moment, breath shallow, the cold washing over me like frigid fire. Slowly, I open the door, the creak startling me in the heavy silence.