I was still smiling as I fumbled with my keys. He's been a workaholic lately. Work didn't even spare him a minute so he could participate in the birthday party I organized for him.
That was two weeks ago and that was the last time we saw each other. I glanced at the chocolate bag I was clutching. This will remind him of us. Of what we used to be. Perhaps a movie night or a dinner cooked together and eaten in a comfortable silence.
But immediately I stepped in, a feeling of unease took root in me. My heart clenched. A pair of unfamiliar shoes, small and feminine, sat by the door. Perhaps a cousin or a sister was around. "And he didn't inform you?" My intrusive thoughts came through, but I decided to shut them out. But the pink handbag lying on the table wasn't helping.
I approach the stairs, my heart beating frantically against my chest. A soft laugh resonated, followed by a low rumble, his low rumble, the kind I haven't heard from him for ages. I feel the love that was pulsing in my veins turn into ice. My breath grew shallow as I sprinted up the stairs.
The door was slightly ajar and I peered in. And there he was. A stranger's bare leg was hooked over his hip, her brunette hair fanned across the pillow. His mouth was on her shoulder, a place I knew the taste of by heart.
The last pieces of the puzzle finally clicked. The excuses, the zero availability, the unanswered texts I had spent sleepless nights trying to decipher. It all came down to this. Tears welled up in my eyes, but no, I told myself, not here.
I let out a deep breath and pushed the door fully, stepping in.
Alex gasped at the sight of me
He got up shielding her, and a tear rolled down my cheek at the sight of that.
"No Mila, it's not what you think"
I lifted my brows utterly impressed by his audacity
"And what does it look like I am thinking?", my voice was hoarse
"mmmh?"
Silence.
"I just see that you're tending to your most pressing need, so pressing you didn't work on Saturday"
"I…", he mumbled.
It took me every ounce of my willpower not shatter into tears right there.
"Ok…" my voice was shaking. I cleared my throat. "Let me help you explain. You got tired of me, or you were playing around with me since the beginning. But you couldn't fathom the idea of not having someone so obsessed with you that you will treat them as you please"
He finally stood up, his face an impassible mask
"I didn't want to hurt you"
A laugh escaped me
"Oh then I have to thank you for your benevolence, it deserves a standing ovation you know"
"Mila you were always so needy"
Oh, there it was. I was a fan, and he said it all with a tone so detached, so clinical.
" And by the way, Mila, this isn't a big deal. You'll do just fine, mmm? You aren't the first or last person to be cheated on. Now at least you know. But thank you for the entertainment. I know at least how it feels to have a fan"
"A fan," I repeated, the tears I held back finally finding a path down my cheeks. A sob escaped me. I was speechless; all this time, I had been just a fan, being referred to as one, and he gladly took it all.
Everything I held back and I vowed earlier not to say came pouring down
"Two years." My voice was a shattered thing. "I was your maid, your therapist, your convenience. And I was just a fan?" A horrible, broken laugh escaped me. "All those nights I cleaned up after you while you were probably texting her… God, I am such a cliché."
"Both of us invested in that relationship, Mila. You had a Thorne as a boyfriend, wasn't that enough?", he countered, a flash of arrogance across his face.
"Enough? Was there even any privilege in me being with a Thorne? I was the one overcoming my own problems during financial hardships. I never saw the tip of your arrogant nose there"
Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, I left the room, rushing downstairs. The fresh air outside felt both like a taste of freedom and an assault. My failure lay bare, but failure as what? A girlfriend? To someone who never considered me as one? I didn't know who to blame. The feeling was a blade through my heart, sharp and painful.
I entered the car and drove home. I parked but was incapable of stepping out of the car. The thought of going home, sitting with all the hurt replaying his impassible mask, his words a thousand times was unthinkable. I glance at the chocolate bag on the passenger seat, pick one chocolate from it, and it tastes like a sweet distraction from the hollow feeling in me.
I emptied the bag before finally stepping out of the car.