When Love Breaks Us

When Love Breaks Us MONICA ARYA Copyright © 2023 by Monica Arya All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. To all the good girls, especially the ones whose favorite colors are morally-gray and red. Contents Author’s Note 1. Sophie 2. Damien 3. Sophie 4. Damien 5. Sophie 6. Damien 7. Sophie 8. Damien 9. Sophie 10. Damien 11. Sophie 12. Damien 13. Sophie 14. Damien 15. Sophie 16. Damien 17. Sophie 18. Damien 19. Sophie 20. Damien 21. Sophie 22. Damien 23. Sophie 24. Damien 25. Sophie 26. Damien 27. Sophie 28. Damien 29. Sophie 30. Damien 31. Sophie 32. Damien 33. Sophie 34. Damien 35. Sophie 36. Damien 37. Sophie 38. Damien 39. Sophie 40. Damien 41. Sophie 42. Damien 43. Sophie 44. Damien 45. Sophie 46. Damien 47. Sophie Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Monica Arya Author’s Note Dear readers, thank you so much for taking a chance on my books and me! Please know that there are content warnings listed at www.monicaarya.com. Note: Damien Moretti is an “alphahole” male main character. He’s possessive and will call you a “good girl”. He may rub you the wrong way with his alpha behavior but he knows how to rub other things the right way. If you enjoy red flags, tormented and morally-grey men, then Mr. Moretti can’t wait to meet you. CHAPTER 1 Sophie “Sophie! We need to go. We’re late!” my older brother, Ezra, called out to me as he jogged down the stairs carrying the last cardboard box. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” I yelled back. My footsteps echoed in the hallways as I let out a soft sigh. I couldn’t help but feel the pit in my core sink lower as I passed the ‘room.’ The room that had made the warmth of the sunshine disappear even on the hottest summer day. The room that changed my life in every way, and made me feel lost to the point I knew no one could ever find me. The room that wrecked my life. But really, it was silly that I was holding a room accountable for a man’s sins. The room didn’t wreck me, he did. A shiver ran up my spine as my chest tightened at the memories I couldn’t contain. “Just take a deep breath,” I whispered to myself. Inhaling and exhaling, I ran my hands across my face. I’d never have to come here again. This was the first time I had come back into this house after a year of it sitting empty, just like my heart. My older brother had bought this pale blue townhouse for me my freshman year of college because it was a good deal, and Jesson University, the small private school I went to, was referred to as a ‘suitcase’ college. Most students lived off-campus because of how tiny the school was and how the dorms hadn’t been updated in probably the last century. But it was the best pre-dental school in the state. Sure, becoming a dentist wasn’t something overly exciting, but both of my parents were dentists. Now that they weren’t alive, it made me clutch onto anything I could in order to feel closer to them. “Sophie! Seriously, kid, I’m going to be late for work.” My brother’s voice ricocheted through the emptiness of the place I once called home. Running down the last few steps, I exhaled. “I’m right, here. Geez.” I tilted my head with my eyes narrowed at him. Ezra Shah was ultra-bossy but seemingly, was also always right. If I had listened to him about my ex-boyfriend, I could have saved myself from the impending doom that came soon after. “You okay?” He eyed me carefully as he was trying to finagle the boxes in his sports car like a rubix cube. “Mm-hmm. I’m okay.” I nodded and sank into the passenger seat. I could tell by the way his lips curved down that he knew I wasn’t okay. But what choice did I have? It had been one year, and after intensive therapy and two different anxiety medications, I was finally finding a balance and way to keep pushing forward. “Want to grab a bite to eat?” Ezra was seated next to me and pressed the button to start his car. Leaning against the headrest, I looked at him. We didn’t look completely alike, yet similar enough to know we were siblings. He favored my dad, and I was my mother’s replica. His eyes were a pretty shade of hazel, where mine were dark brown. His hair was lighter than my black hair, but our skin was a creamy bronze, thanks to the beautiful blend of Indian from our mom and everything our dad was. We always joked that our dad was a melting pot, because he was half-Greek and half-Persian. My dad was adopted at a young age, so we didn’t really have all the details beyond an Ancestry 21 result. Our mom was a true beauty, but not just on the outside—it was also the beauty of her soul that reflected outward. She was also my best friend in the whole world. My dad was the quieter counterpart of their duo, and I loved the way my dad would look at my mom every time she lit up a room with her vivacious and vibrant laugh. They were volunteering at a dental and medical camp in Ecuador when a deadly earthquake rampaged through the country and left countless dead, including my parents. I was only ten years old, and my brother was twenty. He was in college, and I had to live with my grandparents, far away from where he was in Illinois. Where home was. Finally, when I got into college at Jesson, I couldn’t wait to be