I tried not to cry.
I bit my lip, stared at the ceiling, forced my chest to stay still—no shaking, no breaking.
But the more I tried to hold it in, the worse it got.
I gave him my heart…
And he stabbed it.
Just like that.
The betrayal stung deeper the more I thought about it. I wiped my cheeks, but new tears replaced the old ones. Big, hot, angry tears. And I didn't care that I was outside, still in heels, still in public.
I just wanted to get to my room.
Just let me lock the door. Fall apart in private.
I rushed down the steps—blurry vision, trembling knees, heels clicking like chaos—and just as I hit the third step—
I tripped.
But I didn't hit the floor.
Instead, a pair of arms wrapped around me tightly, catching me before the crash.
I panicked.
No. Don't touch me. Not now. Not after everything. I started to push away, heart racing, eyes wild.
"It's me, Kim. Calm down."
Michael.
My body relaxed a little. Not by choice. More like out of exhaustion. I tried walking again, but my knees weren't cooperating. Every time I tried to take a step, I stumbled again.
First step—trip.
He caught me.
Second step—trip.
He caught me again.
By the fourth time, I didn't even bother. He just lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing and said,
"Where should I take you?"
I hesitated. Then whispered, "Room 204."
He carried me all the way. I didn't look up once. I couldn't.
At the door, I reached into my bag with trembling fingers, found the key. He took it gently, opened the door, and carried me in. He sat down with me still in his arms, cradling me like I was something fragile.
Which I guess I was.
"It's okay," he said softly. "Let it out."
At those words, the dam broke again.
Tears, this time with sound. Sobs I couldn't hold in. I buried my face into his chest, my whole body shaking as I cried the ugliest cry I've ever cried.
"I got played, Michael. He played me. For once I didn't run… and I got burned."
He said nothing. Just rubbed my back gently.
I don't know why I kept talking, but I did.
"Someone once told me I'd understand heartbreak one day. Said I was too proud, too logical, too cold. I laughed then. Said life isn't a movie. That I'll write my own ending."
I looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears. "Look at me now, Michael. Karma really is a bitch."
More silence. Safe silence.
"Eight months," I whispered. "Eight months of faith and foolishness."
Eventually, I stopped crying. He stood up, poured me a glass of water. I took it. My hands shook. I sipped.
But something dark crossed my mind. A stupid thought. Maybe…
Maybe if I had given Alvin more—if I hadn't held back physically—he wouldn't have cheated.
Maybe he would've stayed.
So what was the point of being cautious?
Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed Michael.
He froze.
Then… he kissed me back.
I don't know what I was doing. I just wanted to feel wanted. Just for one second. I slipped off his suit jacket, reached for his buttons. My fingers moved down to his belt.
And that's when he caught my wrist.
"You'll regret it, Kim," he said.
I paused. My heart was pounding. My mind fogged.
But I kept reaching.
And that's when he gently pulled away.
I stared at him. Two seconds of awkward silence.
Then I whispered, "I'm sorry. You can leave. I'll be fine."
I lay down on the sofa and closed my eyes.
He stood there for a long time. I could feel his stare on me like the weight of a question I couldn't answer.
Then finally—I heard the door click shut.
I exhaled.
And then the wave of shame rolled over me.
What was I thinking?
Sleeping with Michael wouldn't fix anything. It would only create more damage. More confusion. More regret. Thank God he was wise enough to stop it.
It's strange…
Because this time, I didn't run.
I was the one falling.
And someone else had to catch me.
Maybe that's what hurts the most.
Because I always thought that if I ever fell—
I'd steady myself.
But this time, someone not only caught me…
But ran for me me, when I couldn't.