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I should have waited. I should have listened to him. I should never have yelled or hit him. I sigh. I should have used my head. I swipe at the tears trailing down my cheeks, I am not crying because of him, something must be stuck in my eyes. He should have deleted the pictures. He should never have kept the card, she is married and pregnant.

My shoulders sag, I run my fingers through my hair and frown at my reflection in the mirror, ready to chastise myself. A soft sigh escapes me, my frown deepens into a scowl and my lips tremble. It was not me who said all those mean things, I want him, I always do. It was the hormones, they were messing with my head and emotions. I hate periods. My lower lip juts out, maybe I was jealous too, we don't have any pictures of us on his social media accounts. The logical part of me is quick to remind me he barely uses them and I sigh, he doesn't snap either.

The only reasons we have pictures of us together is because I insist on taking them. I close my eyes to let the hurting image of Paul fade and my heart throbs painfully in my chest. His hurt was palpable, I should have opened my loud mouth to apologise but each time I tried to do that, the wrong words came out instead. Who wants a breakup? I want my boyfriend in bed with me.

How tables have turned, I sigh and rub my palms on my knees. I am never the one who says the mean stuff, I am the one who always wants to hide away or swallow my pride and apologise to avoid any form of confrontation. But I did the opposite of that.

The lights go off, I scream and shut my eyes tight as I am momentarily taken back to that room. To the blinding darkness. My heart goes into overdrive, blood rushes to my ears, drowning all other sounds and I gasp for air as I stagger backwards. I yelp when the back of my legs hit the bed, I have trouble swallowing as I look around me, I can't see, I hate the dark. The lights return, I wrap my arms around myself and eye the bulbs with my chest rising and falling.

A blurred face jumps out at me, I scramble into the bed and pull the duvet up to my chin. My eyes scan every inch of my room to find the sinister pair watching each move I make but I find none. I am alone, I know that. But Jo didn't care to take a look inside when he dropped me off, he went on his way after a wave. What if someone already entered? I gulp. I locked the doors, double checked so no one could have gotten in but I can't help the niggling feeling of being watched. Maybe it's all in my head, a lot of things don't feel right anymore. God.

Tired of tossing and turning, I return to sit in front of the vanity after making certain all the lights in my house are switched on. For some reasons, I feel safer with them on. My eyes fall on my iPhone, I tell myself not to touch it right as my fingers connect with it. Okay, I will touch it but I won't call him, I am sure he doesn't want anything to do with me after all the things I said. Besides, I picked the phone to look at those pictures of a younger version of him. Him and Chi.

That reasoning soon flies out the window, my finger hits the call button, he needs to know I am home, nothing more. Jo might forget to tell him. My foot drums into the floor as Paul's number rings uninterruptedly, my heart sinks to the pit of my belly and I sniff.

One more time, he deserves the benefit of the doubt, he might have gone to bed or left his phone in the parlour, he forgets he has one sometimes. Plus, I am the one who did this to us, I have to fix it. I redial his number two more times and I might have continued if the automated voice didn't say his number was switched off. Maybe his phone tripped off or he doesn't want me anymore.

My eyes sting with unshed tears which fast cascade down my cheeks, I bite the insides of my lip. I am not crying, no, something is stuck in my eyes and I can't get it out. I sniff. The automated voice repeats her earlier message, I pull the phone away from my ear and let it fall to the table. I take deep breaths and reach for my phone again, we never got to talking about the show, he was late. If he came home sooner, I might never have found the card, we will still be happy and in love, on our date or cuddling in bed.

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