Titus didn’t notice when things started changing.
That was the problem with betrayal.
It rarely arrives as a single moment.
It arrives as a pattern you are too emotionally invested to question.
And by the time you notice it… it’s already too late.
At first, it was small.
Lina took longer to reply to messages.
Shorter responses.
Delayed greetings.
Then fewer appearances near the places Titus used to see her.
Titus told himself it was normal.
People got busy.
People changed.
People had lives.
But a part of him—quiet, observant, unwilling to be fooled—started paying attention.
Then came the first real crack.
He saw them together.
Not once.
But repeatedly.
His younger brother and Lina.
Laughing.
Talking.
Walking a little too comfortably beside each other.
At first, Titus stood still when he saw them.
Just watching.
Like someone trying to interpret a language they didn’t want to understand.
The first time, Lina noticed him.
Her smile faded slightly.
Not guilt.
Not shock.
Just… awareness.
“Titus,” she said gently.
His brother turned slowly.
Too slowly.
Like someone who already knew he had been seen.
“Hey,” the brother said casually. “You’re back again?”
Titus didn’t respond.
He looked at Lina instead.
Not accusing.
Not angry.
Just searching.
For something.
Anything.
Lina shifted slightly.
“I didn’t know you were coming today,” she said.
Titus nodded once.
“I wasn’t coming to see you,” he replied quietly.
Silence.
A strange kind of silence.
The kind that doesn’t feel empty.
It feels heavy.
Days passed.
The pattern continued.
The more Titus...