Chapter 36 - Scarlett

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Tears had been cascading down my cheeks since before I even approached the door. My hands were trembling, making it difficult to unlock the door. Through my blurry vision, I cursed myself for having so many trinkets on my keychain. Everyone had teased me about it, so why didn't I just take them off? Why couldn't I be like everyone else?

As soon as I entered the apartment, I fell to the floor and released a torrent of tears. My sister wouldn't be back for hours, so I could let my emotions overwhelm me without interruption.

A tingling sensation shot through my legs as I fought to stand up and make my way to the bedroom. With trembling hands, I clung onto anything I could for support until I finally collapsed on the bed. The pain was almost unbearable this time, and tears streamed down my face without end.

I couldn't blame anyone else for the predicament I found myself in. My own anger and foolishness had led me down this path. In an alternate reality, I could have been in her shoes. But let's be real, I could never have lived up to her beauty standards: her perfectly styled blonde ponytail and impeccable makeup always made her stand out. I recognized her from my college days, where she was a few years my senior and attended some of the same classes as me.

She had become a hero.

Me?

I was nothing.

I frantically searched through my bag, desperately trying to find my phone. I needed to call him. I needed to apologize and beg for his forgiveness. Finally, I found my phone and collapsed onto the bed, scrolling through our old messages. Despite knowing I should have deleted them, I couldn't bring myself to do it just yet. I read through all the times he had told me he loved me, and looked at the countless pictures we had taken together. For someone who was no longer in a relationship with him, I seemed to have an excessive number of photographs of him.

I hastily typed a brief "hey" to him and pressed the send button. I had no idea what his response would be. He was with her now, and I couldn't imagine he would ignore his own wife just to reply to his ex-fiancée, who had been dealing with mental health issues for a while now. As I predicted, there was no response from him.

I turned away and didn't bother taking off my boots. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my body; my face was swollen from crying; and my stuffy nose made it hard to breathe. I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would bring some relief, but it didn't. Every time my eyelids met, memories of his wife's smiling face flooded in. I buried my head in the pillows, trying to escape, but it wasn't enough. Her smile drained me of any remaining energy. I pictured her beneath him, moaning his name as he fucked her hard, just as he had done with me. I couldn't decide which was worse—the thought of her with him or the fact that even thinking about our nights together made my body ache for him.

The sound of my phone buzzing pulled me out of my thoughts, and I reached for it reflexively. My ex-fiancé's name flashed on the screen, and a part of me knew I shouldn't answer. But against my better judgment, I opened the message, and we started texting again, like we did at the beginning of our relationship. It felt comforting to have him respond instantly to my messages, but a nagging thought lingered: was he still with his wife? If I wasn't feeling so emotionally vulnerable, I would have called him without hesitation. Deep down, I knew what would happen if I did call him.

As I chatted with him, my sister messaged me that he would be staying over due to her heavy workload. Without responding, I eagerly revealed all the emotions I still harbored for the man I adored. My hands shook as I hit send and watched him begin to type a reply, only to stop mid-way.

I fixated on the screen for what felt like hours before setting it aside, hoping to drift back to sleep. But my efforts were in vain; I remained awake, constantly jolted by the buzzing of my phone, even though it was only notifications from emails or basic social media updates.

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