“But you stabbed me in the back.”
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
She dropped to her knees, crying. “Please don’t make me leave.
We’re better together. You’ll see.”
I shook my head.
“No,” I said, cold as ice.
“We’re not.”
I asked Cindy to leave that night. There was no screaming, no name-calling. Just quiet.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t cry.
She went to her room and started packing, folding her clothes like she had all the time in the world.
Her face was blank, empty, like a light had gone out. Her movements were slow, almost robotic, like she was too tired to feel anything anymore.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
I sat on the couch and listened to the sound of zippers and drawers opening and closing.
I didn’t cry. Not then.
My heart ached, sure, but the tears didn’t come.
Maybe I was just too numb.
The next morning, I picked up the phone and called Jacob. It rang until voicemail picked up. I hung up without saying anything.
I tried again later.
Then again.
Finally, late that night, he answered.
His voice was quiet. Careful.
I said sorry.
I explained everything. About the camera.
About Cindy.
About how I hadn’t seen it before. I begged a little. Okay, maybe more than a little.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
A week passed.
Then another.
Then one quiet Thursday evening, as the sun dipped low and the kitchen smelled like cinnamon tea, I heard a knock at the door.
Jacob stood there. No bags.
No boxes. Just him.
And two coffees.
“You sure it’s okay?” he asked gently, stepping inside.
“I am now,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him tight.
This time, I believed it.
I believed we’d finally make it past a week.
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Source: amomama
