My body shakes like it’s breaking from the inside out. I open it.
More than half the binder is bloated with paper, page after page of maps and timestamps, printed proof of exactly where Maya and I were at the same time.Everytime we were together.
I go looking for the dates, as I always do. Like punishment.
July—Alicia’s fake prom. The first week of my undoing.
August—the night Alicia was rushed to the hospital. Two days in Miami.
September—the weekend in Maya’s apartment. Ethan’s birthday.
October—the gala. The Plan B.
November—Maya’s birthday. The last trip to San Jose.
I close my eyes for a second and make myself keep going.
Ceci organized it all. Chronologically. Coffee cups, a designer dress, and shoes. Dozens of condoms, three tubes of lube.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
Flights, hotels and meals. A bouquet and a box of chocolates. All the receipts. Proof, stacked in paper form. Not just of what I did… but of how thoroughly I dismantled my own life, one transaction at a time.
When I reach the last page, I go back to the beginning. I keep repeating the cycle. Time loses its hold on me, everything dissolving into a blur, every memory looping in my head.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
I start again, my movements more frantic now, turning the pages too hard, too fast—my vision swimming, my hands shaking—until the paper begins to tear free from the binder.
And then I’m ripping them out. One by one.
Shreds rain down around me, and I don’t stop. I tear every page that tells the story of my ruin. Every page documenting the choices that cost me my life as I knew it. Pages that record more than my sins.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
There’s nowhere else I want to be.
When I’m finished, there are torn pages in every corner of the room. I search the floor frantically, hunting for anything left whole, terrified of missing even one intact sheet.
My chest burns, lungs clawing for air. My head feels like it’s splitting open. I press a hand to my heart—it’s too much.
My knees give out.
I collapse onto the shredded remains of what’s left of my life. And then I can’t hold it in anymore. The sound that rips out of my throat comes from somewhere feral. Grief stripped bare of language.
I slam my fist hard into my chest, but nothing eases. It just eats through me, spreading like acid through my bones, leaving me hollow inside.
I fold forward. Crying. Sobbing. Breaking.
Begging for mercy. Begging forgiveness from Ceci, from our children, even though I know they cannot hear me.
Minutes. Maybe hours pass before I pull myself up and lean back on the desk, closing my eyes.
I think of Ceci, building a life that no longer has space for me. I think of Alicia, my little princess, the only one who wants menear. I think of Ethan, who, despite everything we said last night, chose not to be here to face me this morning.
