Ira sipped her drink and let her gaze drift to the ceiling. “So… we were together for three years, and you were there when we met,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with something heavier.


“Yeah,” Paris replied.


“Do you remember you were about to shoot your shot, but he came over to us instead?” Ira asked.


Paris smiled faintly. “Yeah, and he offered to take us both out.”


“Exactly,” Ira said. “After that double date, we started dating exclusively… or so I thought.”


Paris frowned. “Why do you say that?”


Ira laughed loudly, then quickly covered her mouth. “How about this—Devin was on the DL. Loved himself some men, honey.”


Paris’s eyes went wide, like she’d seen a ghost. She brought her drink to her lips, trembling slightly.


“We moved in together because he said he was trying to change,” Ira continued, her voice dropping. “I was technically the first woman he’d been with… but that was a lie. Everything about life with Devin was a lie.” Her eyes drifted to the window. “He was such a liar.”


Paris reached across, placing her hand over Ira’s to bring her back to the table.


“He gave me multiple STDs,” Ira admitted, voice low but steady. “He claimed he was fighting his demons. I was trying so hard to be the perfect girlfriend, hoping for a ring. I thought I loved him. I brought him around my family, and everybody adored him. I really thought he’d change—until about a year ago, he started hitting me.”


Ira paused, shaking her head. “The first time was small. We’d argued because I went through his phone and found him flirting with men on an app. I called him out… and he slapped me because I called him gay. It seemed minor at first. But then, days and weeks passed, and the abuse escalated. He threw glass dishes, stole my makeup, even wore my thongs. He cut up my clothes and tossed my shoes. He was relentless. It felt like he hated me. But sometimes… sometimes he could be the sweetest man you could imagine. And then he’d turn into a monster I didn’t recognize. Every post I made on social media, every gift or trip… it was all because he’d done something horrible and was trying to make up for it.”


Paris swallowed hard, her voice quiet. “I hate that happened to you. I guess I dodged a bullet by not getting with him when we met.”


Ira laughed, but there was a dark look in her eye. Paris leaned back instinctively. “What?!” she asked, unease creeping into her voice.