A twist of hatred

Broken:her body and soul😫😭

Handsome

I woke up the morning after the tumultuous night, feeling somber and disoriented. But something was amiss. But I just couldn't remember what it is. I'm sure something must have happened the previous night but I couldn't remember a bit of it.
I reached out beside the bed, expecting to find my usual morning routine of a glass of water and medicine, which had become a comforting habit for me after a night of drinking.
However, the bedside table was conspicuously empty, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. She didn't kept them today,I found it strange.

Sighing heavily, I pushed myself out of bed. I freshened up and changed into my work attire, knowing I was already running late for the day ahead. A sense of detachment hung over me, and I couldn't bring himself to go upstairs to inquire about why there was no breakfast prepared.

I reluctantly left for work, going through the motions of my daily routine, attending meetings, and visiting construction sites. But my mind kept drifting back to the events of the previous night, the words I had heard, and the absence of the usual morning routine.

When I finally returned home, the house felt unusually quiet. I found myself wandering to my home office, where I sat down to work on my computer,that was always in the room.
I was engrossed in my tasks when I heard the door open, and Beauty entered the room.

Her presence was palpable, and her face bore the marks of recent tears. My heart ached at the sight, and I felt the urge to reach out and ask her what was wrong. But my ego, as stubborn as ever, kept me silent. I couldn't bear to show vulnerability, even though I sensed that something was terribly wrong.

She was dressed in a long-sleeved pencil midi dress, a stark contrast to her usual cheerful attire. When she timidly requested to borrow my MacBook , I wordlessly guided her to it, still grappling with my own inner turmoil.

"The password, please," she asked, and he reluctantly replied, "Zeedan." Her reaction was immediate; her eyes widened, betraying a glint of hurt. She swiftly took the computer and left the room, leaving me to grapple with the gnawing sense that something significant had shifted between them.

Later, she returned the computer with a muted "thank you," and I could only manage a nod in response. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial.

When I finally opened my computer to continue my work, my heart sank. Everything was wiped clean, as if someone had meticulously erased every trace of his digital life. Anger welled up inside me, and I stormed into her room, my hand raised to express my frustration.

But when I saw her petite form, looking so vulnerable and hurt, I couldn't bring myself to strike her, even verbally. The sight of her in pain was unbearable, and I realized that I couldn't be the cause of her tears. Not anymore!

"If you're finished venting your anger, please carry my computer and restore everything," she said calmly before leaving the room.

As she left, I was left to grapple with my own turmoil, torn between my ego and the deepening realization that I couldn't bear to hurt her, no matter the circumstances.

Beauty

As I entered Handsome's office with the intention of borrowing his computer, my heart was heavy with a burning desire to hurt him, just as he had hurt me with his confession the night before. My plan was simple: wipe his computer clean and leave him in a state of confusion and frustration. It was a small act of retaliation, a way to level the emotional playing field.