With every shared laugh, every exchanged bottle of wine, the apartment seemed to contract, the walls pressing in. I had cherished this place, our life together, but now every corner echoed betrayal.
Nausea overwhelmed me, a lump forming in my throat as the harsh reality sank in. This was no mere mistake or misunderstanding; it was a deliberate, ongoing betrayal. Anger surged through me, mingling with my grief.
I needed to confront him, to demand explanations. But first, I had to gather myself, to collect the fragments of my shattered dignity. I couldn’t let him see me broken.
I steeled myself; the love I once felt had been replaced by a biting cold fury. Jake owed me some serious answers.
Upon his return, the apartment was eerily quiet, the tension palpable. He entered with a casual smile, unaware of the tempest inside me.
“Hey, Em. Missed you,” he greeted, shedding his coat.
“We need to talk,” I said, not mirroring his smile.
Jake’s smile waned. “What’s wrong?”
I presented the tablet, frozen on an image of him with one of the women. “Care to explain this?”
He glanced at the screen, then casually shrugged. “Emily, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They’re just friends.”
“Friends?” I retorted sharply. “Different women, each time I’m gone? Really, Jake?”
He sighed, ruffling his hair. “Look, Em, you’re being paranoid. These women mean nothing.”
“Nothing?” My voice escalated, fury piercing my feigned calm. “How can you say that?”
Jake’s tone grew stern. “I bring a lot to this relationship. You really want to throw this away over some insecurity?”
That was it. His dismissal, his arrogance—it crystallized everything I felt. “It’s not insecurity when I have evidence, Jake. I can’t do this. I won’t marry someone who thinks so little of me.”
Jake’s face tightened, the arrogance slipping into shock. “You’re serious? Over some nonsense?”
“Yes,” I said, firm and clear. “I’m done. We’re done.”
He stared at me, then without another word, grabbed his coat and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, it was over.
After a few moments alone, gathering my thoughts, I picked up my phone and dialed the pizza place. Tom answered.
“Tom, it’s Emily. I… I wanted to say thank you. You were right about Jake.”
There was a pause on the line. “I’m really sorry, Emily. I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, sincerity heavy in my voice. “Could I… maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To talk?”
“I’d like that,” Tom replied, a warmth in his voice that comforted my bruised heart.
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