Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I know deep down in my gut, this is my last and final effort.
Say something, I’m giving up on you … and then the melody stops, a feminine voice cutting through. The voice of a woman I recognize. Sadness freezes over, replaced quickly by something … more gruesome.
Samantha.
I hear her laugh and then a muted voice. His voice. She’s in there with him. Shock keeps me paralyzed. I listen a moment longer, denying it at first.
The only movement I can make is to hide my hands in my coat pockets as the winter wind brutalizes me. I thought my heart was already broken. Apparently, it was only torn because at this moment, there’s no denying my heart’s been ripped ruthlessly in half.
I’m numb as I stand in the harsh cold, trying to listen to the faint sounds as I lean my body toward the window to my right. I can barely see her, and I can’t see him at all.
There’s no way I can make out what they’re saying, but I watch her put on her coat.
It’s funny how anger can so easily replace sadness. Almost like rock paper scissors. Anger beats sadness, sadness beats … I don’t know what, and in this moment, I don’t care in the least.
My heartbeat rages; my breathing shallows as I watch that woman I once trusted standing in Evan’s parents’ home. He can’t really be with her.
Time passes, maybe a minute more before I come to terms with it.
What a fucking fool I was.
This is why he left me. Of course. My breathing falters as I take a few steps back from the door, my warm breath turning to fog in front of me. Shoving my hair out of my face, I collect myself before I can fully fall apart.
With my arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, I hug myself as I walk aimlessly down the street. My shoes crunch the thin layer of fallen snow beneath my feet as I get farther and farther away. I let my mind whirl and my emotions stir into a concoction of self-doubt and recklessness.
“He thought I would wait for him while he had one last fling?” I whisper under my breath but then shake my head. “Maybe he’s trying to pick which one of us he wants …”
Like a madwoman I talk to myself, ignoring the horns honking and cars speeding along the street next to me. I let out a sarcastic laugh and think, his choice is made.
He already left me, and I already told him it was over.
How dumb can I really be?
My hands fumble inside of my jacket as I turn the street corner. I bite down on the fabric of my glove and pull it off so I can unlock my phone.
Evan’s cheating on me. I tell Jules first. I’ve talked to her more than anyone else since she’s welcomed me into her house.
No, he can’t be! She’s quick to respond and I find myself standing still in the middle of the busy sidewalk, texting her back. Everyone walks around me, ignoring me and my mental breakdown.
I’m pregnant with his child and he’s cheating on me.
Why would you think that? she texts back as I type my response.
I just saw her.
Saw who? she asks.
Samantha.
And they were kissing??? That bastard!!
I bite the inside of my cheek and hate that I can’t say yes. They weren’t kissing. I told him to stay away from her and she’s inside his house, though. Isn’t that enough?
I didn’t see them kiss. She’s in his house.
What were they doing? she asks, and I find my anger turning on her.
I don’t know!
What were you doing, spying??
OMG Jules! YES, of course, I was! I stand there numb, reading the text messages and feeling like I truly am crazy.
What did he say?
About them? I didn’t go in, I text her. I’m left with silence for a moment with no response back. The wind seems to pick up and my ears burn from the cold. Or maybe from people talking about me.
I’m going to get proof. I text Jules and spin around on my heels, shoving the phone into my coat pocket and ignoring the dings of her return messages.
I’ll confront that bastard and make him pay for the hell he’s put me through. All the while I work myself up. Each step back to his house is taken with stronger and stronger resolution.
Until I get there and his car is gone, and just like my gut told me the second I saw the empty spot in front of his house, the door is locked.
“Motherfucker,” I scream out as I bang my fists against the door. The chill in the air makes each impact hurt more and more.
I start to text him even though my hands are aching from the freezing cold. One line saying, I know. And then I backspace until it’s erased. That’s not good enough, it’s too mysterious. I text him a paragraph about what I saw, but I delete that too, knowing he’ll just deny it.