The paparazzi even caught Simon sneaking into Hannah's hotel room late at night, claiming they were likely in a secret relationship.
After seeing the scandal, I called him to demand an explanation.
Simon replied calmly, "We were just discussing the script, Claire. If outsiders don't trust me, do you not trust me either?"
Love had become a weapon to destroy me. I loved him, so I stayed silent.
After a moment, my voice trembled despite my effort to sound steady. "I trust you."
But the voice that came through next wasn't Simon's.
"Honey, the food is all served. Aren't you coming?"
I was about to say something, but the sharp click as he hung up the phone felt like a physical blow.
Bitterness piled up in my throat and my chest felt tight with suffocating pain.
Sweet memories of us together raced through my mind.
On the last day of our three-year relationship, I bought a ticket to their movie premiere.
Watching them interact intimately on stage, they reenacted the iconic confession scene from the film.
The glasses I wore as a disguise fogged up with tears. A girl beside me noticed my quiet sobs and handed me a pack of tissues.
The tissues had pictures of Simon and Hannah printed on them.