I lay stiffly, my back to him, pretending to sleep. The silence stretched on until he suddenly turned, his movements abrupt, his expression tense. I felt his gaze on me, searching, but I didn't move.
Eventually, he slipped out of bed. The soft creak of the door was followed by voices in the hall.
"I told you I'd come to see you tomorrow," Tristan said, his tone edged with frustration.
A woman's voice, trembling with sobs, replied, "And I told you I want to see you today. If you won't come to me, then I'll come to you. Don't you love me?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. My chest tightened as I waited for his answer, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
Finally, I heard him speak, his voice low and hoarse. "I do."
Two words. Short, simple and yet they shattered everything.
Lying there in the dark, my vision blurred with tears, I clutched the blanket tightly to my chest. Those words weren't for me. They never had been.
Before I knew it, my pillow was soaked with tears and my entire head throbbed with a hollow, numbing ache. The faint light of the moon filtered through the curtains, illuminating the stillness of my side of the room. Yet outside the door, the muffled sounds of passion broke the silence—soft laughter, whispered words and the wet sounds of lingering kisses.
Separated by just a wall, it felt as though two entirely different worlds had taken shape. In one, intimacy bloomed. In the other, I lay alone, cradling my shattered heart.
Sleep was a distant memory. My trembling hands reached for my phone, the device feeling cold and unfamiliar. I scrolled through my long-neglected social media feed, hoping for a distraction.
I had few friends listed—mostly employees from Tristan's company, people I had added out of obligation rather than genuine connection. Among them, Anya stood out as the most active. Her posts dominated my feed, each update a carefully curated dagger aimed at my pride.
Two nights ago, she had posted: [Oh my god, making out with my boyfriend in the car and got caught by the police. So embarrassing and we even got fined!]
A few days before that: [That jerk still clings to me like before, wouldn't let me go all night. My legs are so sore and now I have to nap all day.]
The words blurred as tears spilled onto the screen, but no amount of crying could erase Anya's smug smile in her profile picture—a perfectly posed snapshot of triumph.