The cruelty of it is retroactive. Overnight, every warm memory has to be reopened and reread for the lie you missed, and the person you trusted most becomes the one you understand least. It keeps happening backwards, through the whole shared history.
The betrayal is only the first blow; the second is the loss of your own certainty. If you misread this, what else have you misread, and how do you ever again trust the version of events playing inside your own head?
The music goes flinty and clear-eyed, the warmth drained out of it. Hard edges, a colder palette, a groove that has stopped trying to comfort you and simply states the facts.
The arc hardens here into the cold that follows the break. Play it in the strange, level calm after the shouting, when you are learning to see clearly again.