past is the past

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You were sobbing into your best friend's shoulder, still adjusting to the breakup. "It's okay, y/n!" he said, stroking your hair. "B-B-But, d-d-Diego-" Diego carefully stood up, and he carried you to the kitchen.

The boy got his white vest, and put it over his blue shirt. "Where are you going?" You asked, tugging his arm. "I'm just going out to the store! You can watch TV, I'll be back soon." He said, grabbing his orange bag. You nodded, and you hugged him. He chuckled, and left.

You got out your phone, and went onto Instagram. You sigh. "He's cheated on me for so long... I need to move on..." Another tear flows down your cheek. Diego texted you, you clicked the notification.

The text read:
"Hey, I'll be home late. Maybe around 11pm, sorry! I'll see you in the morning. Go get some rest."

You chuckled, and got up from the couch. "I'll go out to the bar.." You thought, and got ready.

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Driving into the parking lot, you saw his car. The car that you two would always be in. You rubbed your eyes, and inhaled. "I can do this." And you got out your vehicle, locking the doors. You flung your hair out of your face, and went into the alcoholic-filled building. You sat on a stool at the edge of the counter, and ordered two shots of vodka.

You overhead his voice, laughing with another person. Turning your head, your heart sank.




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