Prologue

Amidst the opulent setting of a lavish dinner table, bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, a stunning blonde woman rose to her feet, her voice carrying through the room like a melody. 

"We are having a baby!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with joy and anticipation. Beside her, her husband sat beaming with pride, his heart overflowing with happiness.

The announcement sent ripples of excitement through the gathering, each guest adorned in their finest attire, the air tinged with the scent of expensive perfumes and the clinking of delicate glassware. Congratulations and cheers erupted, filling the room with warmth and jubilation.

However, amidst the celebration, a figure quietly rose from the table, leaning heavily on a cane, his face marred by a haunting scar. With a solemn expression, he slipped away unnoticed, leaving behind a trail of whispers and sympathetic glances.

Sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, the husband exchanged a knowing look with his wife before rising from his seat, determination etched on his features. "I'll talk to him," he declared, his voice filled with empathy as he made his way after the troubled guest, his heart heavy with the weight of understanding and compassion.

*

Navigating the elegant halls on his prosthetic leg was a cumbersome ordeal for Jason, his movements marred by the constant reminder of his physical limitations. With each step, a mixture of frustration and bitterness brewed within him, fueled by the stares and whispers that followed the announcement of the happy couple's pregnancy.

His resolve to distance himself faltered as he felt a familiar presence approaching. Jason quickened his pace, hoping to evade the inevitable confrontation, but Matt's determined voice pierced through the air, halting him in his tracks. Clutching his cane tightly, Jason turned to face his longtime friend, his expression a mask of defiance.

"Jason, wait," Matt's plea hung in the air, laced with an unspoken apology. But Jason's resentment simmered beneath the surface, his gaze sharp as he met Matt's uneasy stare. The scar that marred his once handsome face served as a stark reminder of the life-altering event that had fractured their friendship.

Jason's voice sliced through the tense air, laden with a bitterness he struggled to contain. "What is it, Matt?" he spat, the resentment seeping into his words like poison.

Matt's response came with a palpable sense of discomfort, his hand instinctively reaching to rub the back of his neck. Despite his handsome features, his expression betrayed a deep-seated embarrassment, a stark contrast to the ease that once characterized their friendship. Jason could read Matt like an open book, their decade-long bond forging an unspoken understanding between them.

"Jason, look, I'm sorry, okay?" Matt's voice wavered, the weight of their shared history hanging heavily between them. His plea was genuine, a desperate attempt to salvage what remained of their fractured relationship. 

"I know we've had this conversation a million times," Jason interjected, his weariness evident in his tone. The relentless cycle of anger, jealousy, and bitterness had worn him down, leaving him exhausted and disillusioned.

But Matt's persistence tugged at Jason's heartstrings, stirring a glimmer of hope within him. "I know, but you're my best friend, Jason," Matt implored, his words tinged with desperation. "I still want you in my life, hell, Annie needs you in her life. Please, don't do this."

As Jason stood there, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of reconciliation, he grappled with the weight of his decision. The bonds of friendship that had once seemed unbreakable now hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of irreparable damage.

"Do what, Matt?" Jason's voice cracked with a mixture of anger, exhaustion, and sorrow. His emotions churned like a storm within him, the turmoil of years of unspoken pain and resentment bubbling to the surface. 

"I'm sorry if I can't summon the facade of happiness for my best friend embarking on their happily ever after with the love of my life. I've tried, but you guys are in love, and I get it. But, Matt, I loved her long before I even knew you, and you, you were everything to me."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with the weight of a friendship strained to its breaking point. Before Matt could interject, Jason held up a hand, silencing him. "Don't, please," he pleaded, his voice a whisper of resignation. "Let me go."

Tears threatened to spill from Jason's eyes as he grappled with the heart-wrenching reality of their fractured bond.

 "I love you, I do, but the betrayal..." His voice trailed off, the words catching in his throat. With a heavy heart, he turned away, his resolve faltering beneath the weight of his pain. "Being around you guys is torture for me, and in case you haven't noticed, my life is already hell," he continued, gesturing to his scarred body and face, a constant reminder of the life-altering tragedy that had torn them apart.

With a final plea for understanding, Jason limped away, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his decision. As he emerged from the venue, his driver awaited him, a silent witness to the unraveling of a friendship once thought unbreakable. With a heavy heart, Jason sank into the plush comfort of the backseat, the weight of his loneliness bearing down on him as the car wound its way through the city streets, carrying him home to his empty penthouse.

*

The elevator chimed its familiar tune as Jason stepped into the sanctuary of his penthouse, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. With a weary sigh, he made his way to the inviting embrace of the couch, shedding the trappings of the day as he went. His fingers deftly loosened the knot of his tie, the fabric falling away in a cascade of relief, followed by the removal of his jacket.

A pang of thirst stirred within him, prompting Jason to push himself up from the comfort of the couch with considerable effort. Limping to the kitchen, he quenched his parched throat with a glass of water, his eyes catching sight of an enticing bottle of wine on the island. Despite the lingering voice of reason cautioning against indulgence, Jason's resolve crumbled beneath the weight of his emotional turmoil. With a resigned shrug, he reached for the bottle, uncorking it with a sense of defiance before returning to the solace of the sofa.

With practiced ease, Jason peeled back the fabric of his left pant leg, revealing the inflamed, angry skin beneath his prosthetic limb. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he freed himself from the restrictive embrace of the prosthetic, though the pain that radiated from the irritated skin served as a cruel reminder of his physical limitations.

Turning his attention to the table beside the couch, Jason's gaze fell upon a framed photograph, its contents a bittersweet reminder of a happier time. Three smiling faces stared back at him, frozen in a moment of unbridled joy – a beautiful blonde girl flanked by two handsome young men. Without hesitation, Jason snatched up the picture, his fingers curling into a fist as he hurled it across the room with a force born of frustration and resentment.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the silence, the fragments of the once cherished memory scattered across the floor. Yet, as Jason sank back into the cushions of the couch, the weight of his actions bore down on him, a painful reminder of the irreparable fractures that had torn his world apart.