That night, I found myself walking along the quiet stretch of Long Beach, the salty breeze brushing against my face as the waves lapped softly against the shore. The air was cooler than usual, but it felt good—crisp, clear, and somehow grounding. I'd left Vanessa's mansion after our talk, needing to clear my head. Everything that had happened, from quitting the company to finally admitting my frustration, was still weighing on me.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the smoothness of the sand beneath my shoes as I walked down the beach. The sound of the ocean usually brought me peace, but tonight, something was nagging at me. Something I couldn't quite shake.
It wasn't just the company, or the fact that I had left everything behind. No, this was something else—something I hadn't thought about in a while.
It was the night at the bar with Lorenzo.
As I walked, the memory played in my mind like a broken record. Lorenzo had brought me to that bar. He was the one who'd suggested it, who had made it seem like a casual night out. And then, just when everything seemed normal, that girl leaned in, and someone took that photo—the photo that had torn things apart between Vanessa and me for so long.
The photo had been the catalyst for everything. The reason Vanessa kicked me out, the reason she doubted me. It had ruined everything... until we reconciled. And it hadn't crossed my mind until now, but standing there on the beach, I couldn't ignore the unsettling feeling creeping into my chest.
It was clear to me now: Lorenzo took that photo.
At first, it made sense. Lorenzo had always been loyal to Vanessa, always watching out for her. Of course, he would take the photo and send it to her. In his eyes, he was probably protecting her, looking out for her best interests. But there was something else that didn't sit right with me—something that felt like it was clawing at the back of my mind, trying to get my attention.
If Lorenzo had been the one to take the photo... why the hell had he brought me to the bar in the first place?
I stopped walking, staring out at the dark horizon, my breath catching in my throat. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The whole thing... it felt like a setup.
Lorenzo had suggested the bar. He'd been the one who brought me there, the one who encouraged me to go out, have a drink, let loose. And then, like clockwork, that girl had shown up. She'd leaned in just close enough to make it look suspicious, and within seconds, there was a photo.
I clenched my fists, trying to shake the anger that was starting to bubble up inside me. If this had been a setup, then what the hell was Lorenzo's game? Was he testing me? Trying to get me to slip up? Or worse, was he manipulating the situation to push me out of Vanessa's life?
The questions swirled in my head, one after another, each more frustrating than the last. None of it made sense. Lorenzo had always been loyal to Vanessa—he'd never given me any reason to doubt him. But now, standing there on the beach, I couldn't help but wonder if I had been played.
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
I started pacing the sand, my mind racing. Why would Lorenzo set me up? He had nothing to gain from it... unless he was trying to protect Vanessa. Maybe he thought I wasn't good enough for her. Maybe he was trying to push me out, to keep her safe from getting hurt. Or maybe—just maybe—there was something else at play, something I couldn't see.
I stopped walking again, staring down at the ground, my hands clenched tightly at my sides. The whole thing felt off, like a puzzle I couldn't solve, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
But what if it wasn't a setup? What if Lorenzo had genuinely brought me to the bar without any ulterior motive, and things had just spiraled out of control on their own? Maybe the photo had been a coincidence—a shitty, terrible coincidence that had blown up in our faces. I didn't want to believe that Lorenzo would go behind my back like that, but the more I replayed the night in my mind, the harder it was to ignore the possibility.
I let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through my hair. The whole thing was a fking mess. And now, standing here, I had to decide whether to confront it or let it go.
Part of me wanted to march straight back to Vanessa's mansion, pull Lorenzo aside, and demand answers. I wanted to know the truth. I wanted to know if he had set me up, if he had been playing some kind of twisted game with my life and my relationship. But another part of me—the part that was exhausted and emotionally drained—just wanted to let it go. What would it even change? Vanessa and I were back together. The company was behind me. Did it even matter anymore?
I kicked at the sand, frustration gnawing at my insides. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe I was just overthinking it. Maybe the whole thing had been a misunderstanding, and there was no point in digging it up again.
But deep down, I knew that wasn't true. Something about the whole situation didn't sit right with me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been played.
I looked out at the ocean again, watching the waves crash softly against the shore. The cool night air felt good on my skin, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the water calm me. I could feel the tension slowly leaving my body, the anger simmering down to a dull ache.
Maybe I'd never know the truth. Maybe confronting Lorenzo would just lead to more drama, more bullshit. Maybe it was better to leave it all behind, to focus on what really mattered—moving forward.
I took a deep breath, opening my eyes and letting the ocean come back into focus. It was over. The photo, the bar, Lorenzo's involvement—it didn't matter anymore. I had Vanessa. I had my life. And I was going to move on, no matter what.
But as I turned and started walking back toward my bike, I couldn't help but feel like a piece of the puzzle was still missing...
Q: What do you think really happened?