Chapter 8: The Truth Behind the Locked Door

By the time I returned to the city, I had made a decision.

I wasn't going back to Kostas's apartment.

Not for my clothes.

Not for the rest of my documents.

And certainly not to ask him for an explanation.

If he wanted to explain himself, he could do it without me standing in front of him.

I stopped at a small café near my office and ordered coffee.

For the first time in days, I opened my messages without feeling anxious.

There were more messages from Kostas.

“Please answer me.”

“I'm worried about you.”

“Can we talk tonight?”

I deleted them without replying.

Then I noticed an email from the hotel.

My heart skipped a beat.

The subject line read, “Your recent stay inquiry.”

I hadn't contacted the hotel.

I opened it immediately.

The message explained that someone had contacted the hotel requesting confirmation of a past reservation.

At first, I thought it might be Kostas.

Then I saw the name at the bottom.

Mason.

He had contacted them on my behalf.

He hadn't asked for private information.

He had simply requested confirmation that the reservation existed and that the listed guests were Kostas and Eleni.

The hotel had confirmed both facts.

That was enough.

I closed the email.

I didn't need to know what happened inside that room.

I already knew what mattered.

Kostas had lied to me.

That afternoon, I met Mason at a quiet restaurant.

He looked uncomfortable when he sat down.

“I wasn't sure you'd want to see me.”

“I wasn't sure either.”

He nodded.

“I brought something.”

He placed his phone on the table.

“It's an old group photo from that weekend.”

I looked at the screen.

Kostas and Eleni were standing together near the resort entrance.

There were other people around them, but the two of them were clearly close.

Eleni's hand rested on Kostas's arm.

Kostas was looking at her instead of the camera.

It wasn't proof of everything.

But it was another piece of the same story.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“Our group chat.”

“Kostas never sent it to you?”

“He did.”

Mason looked away.

“He deleted it later.”

I stared at the photograph.

Then I noticed the date.

It was the same weekend as the hotel reservation.

I handed the phone back.

“Thank you.”

Mason leaned forward.

“Romy, I should have told you earlier.”

“You can't change that now.”

“I know.”

“But you can decide what you do next.”

I looked at him.

“I'm leaving him.”

Mason nodded slowly.

“I think that's the right decision.”

When I left the restaurant, I felt strangely calm.

There was no dramatic confrontation.

No screaming.

No tears.

Just certainty.

That evening, Kostas came to my apartment again.

This time, I didn't let him inside.

I opened the door only a few inches.

He looked at me through the gap.

“Can we please talk?”

“We're talking.”

He sighed.

“Romy, I know how bad this looks.”

“It doesn't just look bad.”

He lowered his head.

“I made mistakes.”

“You made choices.”

He looked up.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

“I know.”

“Then stop asking me to make you feel better about it.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“I love you.”

I shook my head.

“Maybe you do.”

“But love isn't supposed to make someone feel unwanted in their own relationship.”

He had nothing to say.

I continued.

“You gave Eleni access to everything.”

“Your time.”

“Your home.”

“Your attention.”

“And when she wanted me gone, you always found a reason to make me step aside.”

“The fingerprint was deleted.”

“The passenger seat was taken.”

“My document was destroyed.”

“And somehow I was always expected to understand.”

Kostas whispered, “I can fix it.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“No.”

His face fell.

“You can't fix what you kept choosing to break.”

I closed the door.

This time, I didn't hear him knock again.

I stood there with my hand resting on the doorknob.

A strange thought crossed my mind.

For months, I had been obsessed with getting through Kostas's locked door.

Now I finally understood.

The problem was never the lock.

I had been standing outside the wrong life.