“Gówno,(Bullshit)” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter, eyes narrowing, but I see it. The truth he’s refusing to admit, the one I was always too afraid to press.
“Lena.When she came back.” I whisper, a statement not even pretending at a question.
He freezes and the air thickens with the dust of a truth we've finally uncovered between us, one we both ignored in favor of what we felt.
My jaw tightens. “I knew it, you didn’t justtalk.Youfuckedher. I thought it wasall about Zosia?”
“Watch your words andyour volume.” He glances toward the hall. “Little ears.”
I grit my teeth, but it’s not for Zosia’s sake, it’s to keep from screaming.
“You know what?” I whisper. “I don’t need you to say it. I always knew it from thesecondshe sent that text from your phone. You cheated before you even took me on our first date and you havethe nerveto be jealous?”
“It wasn’tcheating,we hadn’t evenkissedyet.” His arms flex across his chest, muscles tight with restraint or guilt.
“Good to knownothingmattered, then. Of course nothing mattered to you but the physical part. That's all you knowhow to do.”
We’re just throwing knives now, hurt for hurt, wound for wound. The air between us is too full with anger and something darker: the same force that once pulled us together. The line between fighting and wanting is paper thin. We're one shout away from a screaming match, one touch away from breaking the bed, making passion-stained marks on each other that wouldn't fade for weeks.
He breaks first, tone tempered, reaching for calm. “If you go, it’sdisrespectfulto us. When I... we'd only hadone dinnerand a few phone calls then. It's different now, between us. This islove, Kasia. We’re supposed to bebuildingsomething, a family. Not playing stupid games.” He waves his hand, like what I want is flippant and what he did was nothing at all.
“So are you saying... if I go, we’reover?”
“I’d have to consider it. It's not just me, ask Piotr, your Tata. None would just roll over for yourObelus. ”
“Thendon’t.”
I grab my bag. He catches my arm.
“Kasia, wait. Don’t go.Please.”
“Why? You’ve said what you had to say. Set your rules. It’s funny,sleepingwith someone isn’tdisrespectful,but me helping someone with theirworkis. Your rules change when they suit you.” I pull free. “I’m going and when I come back, when Ihaven’tslept with him, because unlike you, Icancontrol myself, I won’t be yours to beg back. I’mdone.”
I make it to the car before the tears come. They hit hard, sudden, gut-deep. My hands shake on the steering wheel as I start the engine. I don’t know what I thought would happen when I went digging but I found exactly what I was looking for: proof that some hurts don’t heal, they just leave a scar.
Congratulations, Kasia. You win. The prize? Empty hands and an aching heart.
The drive home blurs. Streetlights smear across the windshield like watercolors, and the tears come faster than the wipers can keep up. By the time I pull into my driveway, it feels like a miracle I’ve made it in one piece. Dominik called once, just once. What could he even say?
God, how stupid could I possibly be? To ignore what Ialready knew, that I was always second, always the choice that came after. Now he wants to claim love, to frame it like something noble, when he had no trouble setting it aside the moment it got inconvenient.
When I slam the door behind me, the frame rattles and something small falls off the wall but I don’t bother to look. I stand there in the dark hallway, trembling, throat raw. I shower mechanically, scrub the smell of him from my skin, pull on a soft t-shirt and shorts, and climb into bed with a box of tissues. The house feels cold. My head pounds. I just want to close my eyes, stop the replay, the gritted teeth, the angry whispers, the way he looked at me likeIwas the one who betrayedhim.Being unconscious is the only thing that might help.
I’m half under the covers, phone on the nightstand, when it lights up. Rafe. For a second I think about ignoring it. Then I see the first line of the message:
I’m sorry for earlier.
didn’t like the sound of my own voice when I hung up.
you didn’t deserve that.
The ache in my chest tightens. I swipe it open anyway.
wasn’t about you. my head gets strange sometimes.
full of words, fragments.
when things matter.
