As I ordered my pizza on that calm Saturday evening, I figured it would be
just another ordinary night. With my fiancé, Ryan, away for work,
the quiet in our apartment felt like a double-edged sword. I had no idea that a
simple pizza delivery would lead me to uncover a betrayal I never saw coming.
My one-bedroom apartment felt like a warm and inviting refuge.
The eclectic mix of furniture that Ryan and I had gathered over the years brought a
cozy charm to the place, while the gentle glow of fairy lights draped around the living
room filled the space with warmth. It felt like a place woven from memories—or at least, that’s what I believed.
Ryan and I had been in a relationship for almost four years. Our relationship had its flaws,
but it felt steady. Cozy. We shared our routines, our little inside jokes, and dreams
for a future that felt so secure. With our wedding just a few months around the corner,
I was completely immersed in bridal preparations—going over guest lists, perfecting the menu,
and envisioning a day that would unite our lives forever.
That evening, I chose to enjoy a little something special while Ryan was out. Pizza has
always been our favorite comfort food, and there was a little pizzeria just down the street that knew
us like family. “I’d like a double pepperoni with extra cheese, please,” I said as I placed my order.
We had been ordering the same thing ever since we started living together.
Approximately half an hour later, the doorbell chimed. As I swung the door open, there stood Alex,
the familiar delivery guy I always see. For years, Alex has been the one bringing our pizzas to our doorstep.
In his mid-30s, he had a friendly demeanor, though he wasn’t one to engage in excessive conversation.
A cap was always pulled low over his eyes, adding a touch of mystery to his appearance.
