I was nothing.The photo proved it.His silence proved it.
I had never felt more alone in my entire life.The hollow feeling from the dinner expanded, consuming me whole.I drew my knees up to my chest, buried my face in my hands, and let the crushing weight of my own sadness finally pull me under.
Chapter 9
Time lost all meaning.I sat in the dark, curled into a tight ball on my couch, until the streetlights outside my window faded into the dull gray of a cloudy morning.I didn’t sleep.I just...existed in a state of suspended misery, cycling through the same three thoughts: the photos, my texts, the crushing, endless silence.
My phone had remained dark and silent on the coffee table.A monument to my shame.Every few minutes, my eyes would drag over to it, a pathetic, hopeful flutter in my chest that was immediately crushed by reality.He wasn’t going to answer.Why would he?I’d shown him my entire hand—a mess of jealousy, need, and unhinged anger—and he’d simply folded his and walked away from the table.
The rationalizations my brain had tried to offer in the dead of night felt hollow and stupid in the cold light of day.Maybe his phone died.Maybe he’s on a flight.Maybe...maybe he just doesn’t care.
The last one was the truth.It was the only thing that made sense.I was a distraction that had ceased to be amusing.
A sharp, sudden buzz cracked through the oppressive quiet.
I jolted so hard I nearly fell off the couch.My heart launched into my throat, a frantic, painful hammering.I stared at the phone like it was a live grenade.The screen was lit up.A notification.A text.
Unknown Number.
For a single, wild, delusional second, hope surged.Maybe he’d been busy.Maybe he was explaining now.Maybe the photos were a misunderstanding.Maybe...
With trembling, numb fingers, I lunged for the phone and swiped it open.
The message was there.Short.Devoid of any greeting or signature.No explanation.No apology.
Just cold words.
Unknown Number:It was a business meeting.Don't be dramatic.
The air left my lungs in a single, painful whoosh.It felt like I’d been checked from behind into the boards.All the air, all the fight, all the hope—just gone.
I read the words over and over until they blurred into meaningless black marks on the screen.
Don’t be dramatic.
The phrase echoed in my hollow chest.My furious, heartbroken, vulnerable texts—my pathetic attempt to claw some kind of truth from him—reduced to dramatics.He’d taken my feelings, examined them under a microscope of cold logic, and found them childish and irrelevant.
