Almost.
“See you later,” he feeds me, leaning in to kiss me before sliding into his seat.
“Yeah, later,” I answer, keeping my voice flat and refusing to meet his eyes.
My face is stone, but inside, my ribs are holding back words that feel like they’ll split me open any second now. Then he’s gone. The taillights fade, and with them goes every excuse I’ve ever made for him.
? ? ?
Back inside, with my heart on my sleeve, my walls finally crack. Tears, sadness, and anger slam into me in brutal waves, drowning me where I stand.
My eyes burn and my mind won’t stop spiraling—every lie, every excuse.
Maybe I really don’t mean anything to him anymore.
Maybe I’m just a quick fuck he checks off his list before going where he really wants to be.
What did I do wrong?The question loops in my head like a broken record, as if repeating it enough times will magically spit out an answer.
Everything was fine—until it wasn’t.
Until the seams ripped wide open. Until he started stuffing her into the cracks of our relationship like I’m fucking clutter that needs clearing.
But it isn’t fine. And now I see it, loud and painfully clear. The fear I’ve been shoving down for weeks comes crawling out with claws and a heartbeat, my name locked in its jaws. It drags itself up from the place I buried it just to tell me what I already know.
I love too much, and he never loved me enough. To him this was only a means to an end.
How is she suddenly more important than me when she doesn’t know a damn thing about the parts of him I’ve carried.
He made me feel like his everything. And I believed him. I stacked my life on top of that lie, built it high like it was safe. All for him to kick the foundation out like a bored little boy knocking down blocks.
And now I’m sitting here wondering how the hell I went from his obsession… to nothing.
This is what I’ve been afraid of since day one. That no matter what I give, no matter how hard I love, it’ll never be enough. And maybe that’s the sickest part, he’s already moved on, proving that I’m not enough. While I’m here, clutching broken pieces like they’re sacred.
The thing I dreaded most isn’t a shadow anymore—it’s here, in my face, laughing at me forever for thinking I’m an exception.
The house is too quiet as I walk down the hall. That kind of quiet that makes your own breathing sound too loud. Arina’s out on some date, chasing her next victim, and usually that kind of freedom feels like a blessing.
But tonight it feels like a curse.
No one’s here to drag me out of my head. No one’s here to remind me I’m not worthless.
I shut my door, locking it—like steel hinges and a wooden door are going to protect me from the mess inside my own head. My white-and-gray sanctuary usually calms me, but right now, it just makes the mess in my life glow brighter. Every perfectly lined bottle on my vanity feels like a joke—lined up neat while my life is scattered everywhere.
I sink onto my bed, clutching my pillow until my knuckles ache, and stare at the ceiling. The tears hit without warning, hot and unforgiving, burning my throat raw as I choke down every sob. I press my face into the pillow, drowning out the sound—because if I cry soft enough, maybe even these four walls won’t see how broken I’ve become.
Hours drag like chains, every second stretching too far, refusing to let me go. My chest stutters under the weight, each ragged breath scarping through me, carving me from the inside out.
And then Jacob’s stupid face flashes through my mind. That smile. Like he sculpted comfort out of thin air and handed it to me. Like he was the safest place I had. God, I could choke myself for how easily I fell for him.
And then Rebecca—them. His phone buzzing with secrets he thought he buried deep. The betrayal sticks in me like poison gum—gross and bitter, chewing through me piece by piece.
I scream into my pillow, cry until my lips taste like salt, but I still can’t spit it out.
It just sits there, heavier with every breath.
Somewhere past midnight, with my eyes swollen and my pillow soaked, the exhaustion finally wins.
