For a moment, I just stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the strain around my eyes, the clamminess of my skin, and my puffy cheeks. Over the past few months, I can feel my once-sculpted muscles softening, a consequence of less time at the gym and more time spent drinking at home. Anyone can see just how unhealthy I’ve become, how frail I look as if all my strength has been sucked right out of me.
I glance down at the bottle of whisky, my fingers curling tightly around the glass as I lift it towards me. My heart races, a familiar thrill of anticipation pulsing through me as I slowly twist the lid free.
The first sip, as the liquid coats my tongue, is always the sweetest, followed by a rush of warmth and relief as it slides down my throat. My mouth tingles with every swallow, and for a brief minute, I lose myself in the sensation.
I’m just about to take another sip when something on the edge of the vanity catches my eye: a bracelet—a friendshipbracelet, the kind children make with lettered beads and some twine. Jake had given it to me last week after he made it at school for Friendship Day, because, in his words, I was his ‘other best friend in the whole world.’
I remember how excited and proud he was as he tied it around my wrist. The memory alone makes my hand, still holding the bottle, slowly start to lower.
“You’ve got a little boy who looks up to you. Please don’t let him down. We’re all counting on you to stick around for a long time.”
Jason’s words from two weeks ago rush back, hitting me square in the chest and snapping me back to reality.
I glance back at my reflection, feeling utterly disgusted with myself for yet another lapse in control.
“What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?” I whisper angrily to myself, still gazing at my reflection. “Stop being so fucking weak and get your shit together. Enough is enough.”
Jason’s words keep replaying in my mind, driving the point home again and again. I’ve been Jake’s godfather from the moment he came into this world, a role entrusted to me by my best friend, who always believed I would be a good role model for his son.
And what have I done with it? I’ve taken it for granted, trampled over it, let him down more times than I can bear to admit.
I’ve been not just a shitty friend, but a shitty godfather too. I would never want Jake to follow my example, and I’ve alreadyfailed him in every way that counts. The memories crash into me, drowning me in a tide of emotions too raw to name.
It’s that final thought that compels me to lift the bottle and slowly tip it over the sink. The deep amber liquid spills instantly, cascading into the drain like a poisonous stream. I watch as the bottle empties drop by drop, until the last trace splashes against the ceramic.
When there’s nothing left and both the bottle and my mind feel significantly lighter, I toss it straight into the rubbish bin, never to be touched again.
As I begin to undress, ready to wash the remnants of alcohol and the day from my skin, I make a silent vow, that from this moment on, I will fight every single day to become the person Jason and Jake deserve. A man they can truly rely on. A man capable of change and growth.
And, if hope allows, to one day be worthy of happiness again.
Chapter 3
Kaden
“I know how heavy and daunting it can feel taking this first step into therapy, but I’m really glad you decided to come in today, Kaden,” Dr. Carroll says gently, her soft, reassuring voice doing nothing to calm the nerves inside me.
I sit at the edge of a beige couch, my head bowed as my palms slide back and forth over my thighs in slow, anxious passes. It’s my first therapy session, and I’ve already imagined ten different escape routes—one of them involving jumping straight out the window, four stories down.
But my fear of heights, and the grim thought of dying a failure and a coward, were the only things stopping me in that moment.
“Before we begin, I want you to know that this is a safe space for us to understand how you got here, and how you can move forward. If it’s alright with you, can I ask what prompted you to book this session?”
I look up at my new therapist seated across from me, her expression soft and attentive. Her legs are crossed, her spinestraight, a notepad resting lightly on her lap. She looks to be in her early fifties—perhaps mid, but it’s the subtle confidence in the way she carries herself that tells me she’s heard just about every problem this world has to offer, and that very little could shock her anymore.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.
“Honestly? It’s a mix of a lot of things. My affair, my divorce, my relationships, my job… my whole life really. Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and most days, I’m just trying to stop myself from reaching for a drink before the day has even begun.”
She nods slowly, jotting a few words on her notepad, her pen moving smoothly and quietly as she keeps her eyes on me. “Can you tell me what’s been hurting you the most?”
I clear my throat. “All of it. Betraying my wife, then staying with the woman I cheated on her with, only for that relationship to end horribly. I thought I hit rock bottom after my divorce, but it was finding out that the baby I helped raise since birth with my affair partner wasn’t even mine at all.”
Dr Carroll nods again, her expression gentle and empathetic. “That’s a lot of loss in a short amount of time. I can imagine how that would’ve been very painful for you. But let’s slow it down for a moment and talk about what led to the breakdown of your marriage?”
My eyes fall shut as the memories cut through me like a freshly opened wound, dragging me back to the exact day Skylar left me without warning, leaving behind nothing but asingle letter. In it, she explained that she’d known about my affair for weeks and wanted out of our marriage. Her final demand, that I never contact her again, only deepens the ache still lingering in my chest.
After a few minutes of trying to steady my breathing, I finally summon the courage to open my eyes and speak.
