But these posts were only the surface. My call log revealed more of her relentless pursuit. Over thirty missed calls from Anya in recent weeks. She always seemed to find new ways to remind me of my place, painting me as the interloper who had stolen Tristan from her. In her mind, now that she was back, it was only right for me to return him.
It seemed I would be stepping aside soon enough.
To drown out the intimate sounds from the other side of the wall, I pulled the blanket over my head, cocooning myself in the oppressive heat of my despair. Yet even then, sleep eluded me until dawn broke.
When the first light of morning crept into the room, I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. My bare feet padded softly against the cold tiles as I splashed water on my face, the icy chill shocking my swollen eyes. Just as I was about to return to bed, the bedroom door creaked open behind me.
"Zara, why didn't you call me if you needed the bathroom?" Tristan's voice was low and groggy but carried a faint edge of concern.
I froze, the words catching in my throat as I turned to see him. His disheveled appearance was a stark contrast to the Tristan I once knew. His neck and chest bore faint marks of earlier passion, a silent testimony to what had transpired with Anya.
For a moment, I felt exposed, caught in the raw vulnerability of the situation. It took several seconds before I managed to speak. "I can manage on my own," I said, my voice barely audible.
Tristan, oblivious to my discomfort, stepped forward to flush the toilet for me. Then, with an automatic familiarity, he guided me back to bed, his hand steady on my arm.
But before we could reach the bed, a figure appeared in the doorway. Anya stood there, barefoot and unabashed, her loose hair cascading over Tristan's shirt—the same white shirt he had worn to bed the night before.
Her lips curved into a playful smirk as she bit down on them, her eyes sparkling with malice. Then, without a care, she threw herself against Tristan's chest, her arms wrapping around him possessively.
I stood frozen, my insides churning as I watched them. Two bodies, so close and so exposed, made me feel like an outsider in my own life. A pitiful clown performing in a tragic farce.