Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

50. I'm Sorry

The cab driver nods. His eyes are sympathetic in the mirror. I catch sight of my face, and see what he sees; a young woman, with a white face and bloodless lips, her eyes bleak, and filled with pain.

Damn him. I loved him. I had it all inside of me. Nothing gave him the right to cheat - nothing!

He had me, all of me, everything I had to give. I trusted him.

"No, no, no, no." The tears start pouring in masses down my face. "This can't be happening." I bend over, breathing hard, drawing in jerky breaths. Is this what it is to have your heart break? This awful, gut-wrenching pain, this ripping apart, the anguish rippling like a million needles, piercing, and stabbing everywhere, howling in silent misery to the innermost core of my bleeding heart?

"Jae, no." I taste salt seep into my lips. I hate myself, more than I hate him and more than I ever hated my father. I am a tragic mess. The sorriest, most pathetic excuse of a person. I can't go back home, he will come find me.

I stop at a hotel. I book a room. Jae is calling my cell phone. I send his calls to voice mail and turn up the volume of the TV, because anything is better than the sound of my sobbing.

An hour later, I find exactly what I am looking for a couple of blocks away, Swig Martini Bar. It is subdued and desperate, just like me. I enter through the broad doorway and flash my ID to the bouncer. A mixture of smoke and a sweet perfume hits me in the face, and the smell reminds me of the night I went to the Jewel Bar with Lisa because I was mad with Jae. How depressing. The bartender eyes me curiously when I down my whiskey in one shot and ask for another. I am mysterious, alone, and looking thoughtful. It is a trick that the best of women know. Separate yourself from the herd, look beautiful, and a man will wander over. He does, soon enough. He is tall, goodlooking, and in dress pants with a tie pulled in disarray around his neck.

"Hard day?" he asks, leaning over to look at me.

"Yes. You?"

"Very." He smiles at me. "Can I buy you a drink?" He nods toward my empty glass.

"Okay." Is this how Jae picks up girls? Or, maybe, he doesn't need to. They come on to him. I force back my tears. He comes back with two glasses. Good. We drink for over an hour before I invite him to the dance floor. He is a mediocre dancer, and I remember how I danced for Jae, and I start to sob a little, but turn away before my new guy sees me, but what does it matter, really? I ignore my disgust at the way he rams himself into the back of me
and keep moving, focussing on the swirling in my head. The night becomes thick with hasty kisses and touching in the cab, and by midnight we are skipping through the streets toward my hotel.

We walk toward my room. I take out my keycard and zap the control panel. I turn the knob, and he follows me in. "Hang on," he says politely. "I need to check something." He takes out his wallet, and rummages, and pulls out a condom. He grins at me, "Better be safe than sorry." He unzips his pants, and rips the packet. And this is the moment I start retching. I throw out all over his shiny shoes. "I'm sorry," I say, my tears running down my face, mingling with the vomit on my mouth. He takes a step back. He looks shocked. "I'm so sorry. I can't do this." "Hey," he says. "Are you oka - " but I push him out, and shut the door in his face, and double-lock it.

I crouch on the door, crying. And then I take out my phone and text Jae my hotel address.

I wait.

An hour later, I hear a fumbling outside the door. I have left it unlocked. I knew he would come. I am sitting at the window when the door opens, I haven't showered and my hair is a rat's nest around my face. He doesn't say anything when he sees me, his eyes roam around the room looking for signs of my pain. The mess, my clothes tossed here and there. His eyes fall on the condom wrapper that is ripped and perched on the nightstand.