In the main hall, conversations stopped as I passed.
The whispers had turned to silence.
A woman stepped in front of me and touched my arm gently, her fingers warm against my cold skin.
“I’m so sorry, but you deserved to know,” she said softly.
“None of us could stand to watch it anymore.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and kept walking. The night air hit me like a slap when I pushed through the building’s heavy doors.
I heard Jake calling my name behind me, but his voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater.
Later that night, my phone buzzed constantly with Jake’s messages. “Please, you have to let me explain.
I didn’t mean any of it!
I was just joking around. It’s not what it looks like.
Please pick up.”
I watched the notifications pile up but didn’t answer. Instead, I sat in our dark living room, surrounded by photos of our life together, and wondered how many other lies were hanging on our walls.
In one frame, we were laughing at our wedding.
In another, kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
All these perfect moments, and behind each one, he’d been writing messages, making videos, turning our life into a joke.
The phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
But I just sat there in the dark, watching the moon crawl across our living room floor, painting shadows that felt more honest than any of the smiles in our photos.
Source: amomama
