Of course it’s Miss Shots-All-Around. The same bitch who hangs around us every weekend, cheesing in my face while apparently auditioning to be his side piece. My fingers tremble, tightening around the phone as I force myself to open the thread.
And there it is. My man—my fucking man—right in my face, entertaining this bitch like she’s worth his time. And the worst part is he’s not even shutting her down. The way his messages bounce back makes it obvious he’s been wanting her. He’s not just thinking about it—he’s fucking doing it.
My blood runs hot, damn near blistering as I keep scrolling. This is the confirmation I thought I needed—but staring at it now feels toxic. My heart tightens, twisting in on itself, going colder and darker with every line I read.
The shower hums in the background, but I’m too full of heat to hear anything else. Boiling hot lava pulses through me while their messages stain the screen, scalding me with every line.
Jacob:“You looked so good the other night, I couldn’t even focus.”
Her:“Lol stop, you’re gonna get in trouble.”
Jacob:“You like it though—don’t lie. And you know I don’t mind the trouble for you.”
Her:“Such a troublemaker. You’re lucky you’re sexy.”
My stomach turns so much I feel like I’m going to puke, but I keep scrolling.
Jacob:“Since I’m so sexy, when are we sneaking off again? Last time wasn’t long enough for me, I need to see you again.”
Her:“Careful pretty boy… or your girl’s gonna think something’s up.”
Jacob:“Only if you tell her. And you won’t, so don’t worry about her.”
The phone trembles against my palm as I squeeze harder, my breathing pissed and uneven. I want to throw his fucking phone, stomp on it, destroy every word on this fucking screen. But the proof is in my face—clear as day—and I’m pissed it even manages to shock me.
I fucking knew it.Maybe that stupid voice in my head isn’t so stupid after all.
He just fucked me—while the whole time he’s been sneaking around with Rebecca. And it’s not even the cheating that slices me open. It’s the humiliation. Realizing he thinks so little of me that I’ll never find out.
I want to stop—I swear I do—but my fingers don’t listen. They keep scrolling, pouring gasoline on the fire eating me alive.
Her:“So Monday? You know I’ll be off work by 6.”
Jacob:“Bet. I can’t wait to see your sexy ass—wear that white mini skirt I like.”
And just like that, my chest folds. My heart doesn’t just hurt—it twists, darkens, turning into something I barely recognize.
The shower water almost covers the sound of my heartbeat trying to break out of my chest—but it can’t mute the truth hitting me.
He’s planning to see her? Tonight?No fucking way he thinks he can fuck me, wash me off and go entertain her.
My gut called this days ago—I just refused to listen. Because stupid me wanted to believe in our fairytale so bad. But fairytales aren’t built on lies and they sure as hell don’t come with cheaters and side chicks.
My vision blurs with tears that claw at the eyes, begging to fall, but I hold them back until it physically hurts. It feels like my whole world just collapsed in on itself, the tiny bit of sanity I rebuilt cracking straight down the middle.
He’s not mine anymore. And probably he hasn’t been for a while now.
I drag my eyes over the glowing screen one last time, pulse pounding so loud it shakes my thoughts. I want to keep going, to read every last message until I can’t feel anything anymore.
But I can’t.
Not with him in the next room, waiting for me stop into the shower like the clueless girlfriend who still trusts him.
My fingers quake as I place his phone on the dresser in the exact same spot—like I didn’t just rip open every lie he’s been hiding for god knows how long. I pull in a slow breath, smooth out my face, and push the screaming in my chest back down.
Because this truth is I’m not ready—not yet anyways. I need time.
Time to figure out if I’m about to set the whole world on fire or swallow this like it won’t choke me later.
