Ahh, the glorious scent of the weekend! I woke up at a luxurious 12:00 PM, refreshed after a long night's sleep following my shift. That sweet, sweet smell of freedom permeated the air, motivating me to tackle a deep cleaning project for the house.
Meanwhile, grandma entertained our elderly neighbor downstairs, the sound of their chatter drifting through the house. Dad wasn't around, off to one of his meetings, leaving the house all to myself. It was time to put some music on and get things spotless!
I changed sheets and curtains, threw in a load of laundry, and began the satisfying rhythm of cleaning. There's something weirdly therapeutic about getting a place squeaky clean, isn't there? As I moved from room to room, I could almost feel the accumulated stress of the week melting away with each swipe of the mop, each dust bunny banished into oblivion.
A buzz startled me from the depths of Wuthering Heights. Glancing at my phone, my heart skipped a beat. An unknown number displayed, but the message read: "Did we have any assignments yesterday? - Kyle."
Disbelief and excitement battled within me as I stared at the message. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, composing and deleting replies for what felt like an eternity. A simple "No" seemed insufficient, yet the prospect of losing this link to Kyle felt paralyzing. Finally, I typed, "No, we didn't. How did you get my number?" and hit send.
Ten agonizing minutes ticked by, each passing second stretching into an eternity. My phone buzzed, but it wasn't Kyle. Disappointment washed over me as I saw it was just an old friend back home sending me a photo of Alex. The air seemed to be sucked out of my lungs. It was Alex, intimately embracing Catherine, a girl from my high school days.
The world tilted on its axis. I knew I would end things with Alex, but the sight of him cheating again sent a fresh wave of pain crashing down. While intellectually I understood the logic behind my decision, his blatant disregard for our relationship felt like a betrayal. I am really planning to end it between us because of his apathy, the relationship feeling like a one-sided effort. Yet, tears welled up in my eyes, the ache in my heart undeniable. The fictional tragedy of Wuthering Heights suddenly paled in comparison to the very real heartbreak unfolding in my life.
I needed to deal with the heartache caused by Alex and Catherine, to allow myself to grieve the end of that chapter, and to find the strength to move forward. I texted back, "How long have you known?"
The message stared back at me, each word a hammer blow to my already fractured heart. "Please don't be mad at me for not telling you soon, but Alex and Cathy have been going on for 3 months now." My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, the weight of the revelation crushing me.
Three months! How could I have been so oblivious? A memory flickered – Alex and Catherine, sitting close at the convenience store just before I left for college. No welcome nor goodbye kiss, just a fist bump. A fist bump? The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had been too blind, too willing to ignore the red flags, the subtle shifts in his behavior. Back then, his explanation had seemed plausible, but now, it reeked of deceit.
My hands trembled as I typed, each keystroke echoing the turmoil within. "Can you please keep it a secret between us about me knowing this?" The words felt hollow, a desperate attempt to salvage a sliver of control in a situation spiraling out of control. I planned to surprise him with the photo on our anniversary, a final act of closure before moving on. Although, this surprise will feel more like a bitter reminder of my naivety, a painful confirmation of my suspicions.
As I sent the message, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. The emotional rollercoaster of the day had taken its toll. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of grief, anger, and betrayal. But amidst the pain, a flicker of strength emerged. I wouldn't let this define me. I would heal, move on, and emerge from this experience stronger and wiser. The path ahead wouldn't be easy, but with each tear shed, I felt myself letting go, making space for a future yet unwritten.
YOU ARE READING
Wingman Blues
Teen FictionTherese Dawson, a bookworm with a heart as big as the city she just moved to, is hopelessly smitten with Kyle Sorokin, the epitome of unattainable cool. He's rich, aloof, and surrounded by a squad of equally intimidating friends. Therese knows he's...
