The Illusion Of Us

CHAPTER 10

In the waning light of the evening, Ava, with a heart heavy as stone, bypassed the familiar route to her home. Instead, she found herself steering towards a nondescript bar, a place where the shadows of her life wouldn't find her. It was a quiet spot, unfamiliar and unremarkable, far from the eyes of those who knew her.

With a resolve that masked her inner turmoil, she approached the bar and ordered a shot of vodka, her voice barely above a whisper. The bartender, sensing her distress, served her quickly. Ava held the glass, its contents shimmering under the dim lights, like a fragile hope in the midst of her despair.

As she took the shot, her hand trembled, and the liquid fire did nothing to warm the chill in her heart. She ordered another, then another, each one a futile attempt to drown the agony that gnawed at her soul.

Ava's gaze drifted to her phone, to a wallpaper that now felt like a cruel reminder of a happier time. It was a photo of her and Ethan, radiant with joy on the day of his med-school graduation. Their smiles, so full of promise and dreams, now seemed to mock her current misery. She remembered the unspoken vows she made that day, to love and cherish him for a lifetime. Those dreams now lay shattered, like glass under the harsh truth of reality.

Tears, unbidden, cascaded down her cheeks. She tried to stifle her sobs, her body shaking with each wave of sorrow. "Why, Ethan? Why did you let me believe in a love that never was?" Her heart ached with the betrayal, the pain so raw and overwhelming that it felt physical.

More vodka came, but it tasted like ash in her mouth, each sip a bitter reminder of her shattered illusions. The alcohol, rather than numbing her pain, seemed to amplify it, each shot a piercing reminder of her loneliness.

Through her blurred vision, she caught a glimpse of the bartender's name tag. "Brian, can I have another?" Her voice was a broken whisper, the words barely escaping her lips.

Brian, the bartender, looked at her with a mix of pity and concern. "Miss, I think you've had enough," he said gently, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

Ava's response was a choked laugh, devoid of any humor. "Enough? My heart is breaking, and you tell me I've had enough?" Her tears flowed freely now, each drop a testament to her shattered dreams.

"I thought he loved me, Brian. For six years, I believed we were building a life together. And now? He's gone, back to the arms of his past, leaving me here in pieces. How do I move on from that? How do I breathe knowing that every 'I love you' was a lie?"

Brian remained silent, offering her a glass of water, a small act of kindness in her world of pain. Ava looked at it, then back at him, her eyes pools of despair. "Water won't mend a broken heart, Brian. Nothing will."

She continued, her voice a haunting melody of pain and betrayal. "Do you know what it's like, Brian? To wake up one day and realize that the person you loved more than life itself never truly loved you back? That you were just a placeholder until their real love returned?"

Ava's sobs filled the quiet bar, her pain echoing off the walls. Brian listened, a silent witness to her heartbreak, his presence a small comfort in her world of hurt.

In that moment, Ava's grief was palpable, a raw, open wound for anyone to see. Her tears were a river of sorrow, her cries a lament for a love lost, a dream shattered. It was a scene of pure emotional devastation, a heart laid bare in its most vulnerable state.

It was just after eight in the evening when Ethan decided to head back home. The apartment greeted him with darkness and an unsettling silence.

"Babe?" He called out, flipping the light switch. There was no response. A quick check around the apartment confirmed that Ava wasn't there. Ethan found this odd; he had assumed Ava would be home by now. It was an unusual feeling for him, coming home to an empty apartment for the first time since they moved in together.