Their Christmas Arc

On The 6th Day of Christmas

On the sixth day of Christmas, I forever held my peace.

"Jen!" I heard a familiar voice yell, my body feeling like it was in the middle of a rough earthquake. The moment when I opened my eyes, I instantly regretted doing so as eve n with the windows shut and all, I felt like I was being blinded.

"Shut up!" I groaned, pushing my roommate away before flipping over and burying my face into the pillow. My skull felt like it was being constantly pounded by a jackhammer – what the hell happened last night?

"It's Josh's wedding today," she reminded, her tone apologetic as she once again attempted to pull me out of bed.

I could practically hear the gears in my head working, trying to understand her words. With a whimper from the pain, I lifted my head up and slowly turned towards her, "This is it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she muttered softly, reaching out a hand for me to take. I grabbed it and allowed her to slowly pull me up into a sitting position, handing me a glass of water. Drinking its contents, I tried to rehydrate my body as attempted to recollect the events that took place last night. My roommate and I spent the whole night drinking in a stuffy little bar after a complete breakdown, the realization that the single boy I've ever loved was getting married slapped me across my face.

She led me out of my room, making me stare at the mess known as the living room. Pillows were thrown around and peeking through them were a few picture books that were left open, a good reminder of the disaster that took place.

I received the stupid invitation weeks ago so I found it hard to understand why the feeling only dawned upon me now. The second I saw Josh and his fiancé's name printed in gold on a fancy piece of paper, I knew that I lost.

Look at me, twenty-seven and still caught up with a guy I broke up with back in high school.

When I casually asked what the date was to my co-worker, I reminded of the doomsday. I broke down with no preamble and I quickly called up my best friend so she could pick me up from work and bring me to a bar. Instead of scolding me or halting my intentions of getting completely drunk, she paitently listened to my sorrows.

The me from a few years back would have shrieked in horror if she knew that this was going to be her future.

"Here," she handed me a breakfast bar before pushing me a bottle of painkillers, "You should at least make an effort to look presentable."

A single tear fell from my eye and I looked up at her with watery eyes, "I lost him."

She frowned at the oncoming tears before reaching out to pull me into a comforting hug, "I'm sorry."

I wiped my eyes before taking a deep breath. I chowed down on that breakfast bar and took the painkillers before heading to the shower. I took longer than I should have, probably because I spent a good amount of time just staring at the tiled wall.

I was the one who ended it, why am I regretting everything now?

Maybe because I never wanted to say goodbye to our relationship in the first place.

We wanted different things. He had a passion for art while I strived to finish business. He desired to travel the world but I want nothing but to stay in my comfort zone. The contrast in our likes was what led me to do it – I didn't want him to be held down. I wanted him to go and out and do what he wants without me to worry about.

But that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt like a bitch.

His bride was probably everything that he ever wanted. From what I heard, they met in Europe where they were both tourists in the continent.