Keyshawn was everything anyone could want. Talented, successful, with a charm that could melt any room. He had all the swagger of a star on the rise and a reputation that made women fall at his feet. But for all that, he belonged to you.

Or, at least, you thought he did.

The first time you caught him slipping, you didn't know what to do. He came home late, smelling like someone else's perfume, his clothes slightly out of place, his phone screen lighting up with a message from an unknown number. You could've confronted him then, but you didn't. Maybe you were in denial, or maybe you loved him too much to accept the truth.

But when it happened again—this time with more proof, more clues—you couldn't keep ignoring it. Keyshawn was no longer the man you thought you knew. He was a stranger, a liar, someone who didn't respect you the way he should have.

You had every right to be angry, to be hurt, but there was a part of you—deep down—that couldn't quite walk away.

This wasn't how you imagined your relationship with him would turn out. His career was soaring, his name on the tip of everyone's tongue, but his personal life? It was falling apart.

You stood by him through everything—the rumors, the late-night studio sessions, the drama surrounding his exes—but now you weren't so sure if it was worth it anymore.

He walked into your shared apartment late one night, looking like he'd been out for hours, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and the weight of secrets. He looked at you, his expression unreadable, but you saw the guilt there. It was fleeting, but it was there.

"Don't start," he said, throwing his jacket onto the couch and running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in the mood."