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“Well, losing it might not be the worst thing. When we get married, we can just buy another one. Or maybe even upgrade to a bigger place. What do you think?”
Gerard sounded like he was seriously picturing our future. He kept sneaking glances at me, watching for a reaction. I noticed, of course, but I pretended I didn’t.
Normally, I’d be over the moon–probably crying happy tears. But now? I didn’t feel like shedding even a single tear for him.
My coldness killed his vibe. He could tell I was upset, but he wasn’t about to try and fix things. The fact he‘ d even made an effort tonight was rare enough.
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When he went to shower, his phone started buzzing nonstop. The noise was driving me crazy, so I picked it up and glanced at the
screen.
Gwyneth had sent him a bunch of photos- wedding photos of the two of them. Some in classic outfits, some in modern style.
My chest tightened, the pain dull but heavy.
So, this is how it was. His impatience was reserved just for me.
I thought back to the time I’d excitedly dragged him to look at wedding outfits with me. But he bailed on me every single time.
“It’s all the same. Just pick something,” he‘ d said.
That frown of his is still burned into my
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memory.
His impatience with me? That was real.
And the tenderness in those dozens of
photos? That was real, too.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Suddenly, steam rolled in as Gerard stormed out of the bathroom, snatching the phone out of my hand. He yanked it so hard that I fell onto the bed.
“Do you not understand the concept of privacy?” His face was flushed from the hot shower, but his voice was ice cold, sending a chill down my spine.
I glanced down at my hand. His grip had left a scratch, and now it was bleeding.
Honestly, even if he hadn’t caught me, I
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wouldn’t have scrolled any further. I‘ d already seen it all before–the thousands of flirty messages. I’d read them all one sleepless night, from midnight to sunrise.
By the time I was done, my eyes were swollen, but I still had to fake being fine, pretending
I’d just woken up.
ㄧˊ
Who would’ve guessed? Seven years of being together, and our conversations were always just me–nagging, pleading, trying to spark something. Once in a while, if he was in the mood, he’d toss me an emoji as a reply. I was nothing but a clown.
“Sorry,” I muttered, lowering my eyes. “I won’t touch your phone again.”
He froze, caught off guard by my reaction.
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“Those photos… Gwyneth said trying on wedding dresses is exhausting, so I… I just helped her try some on. That’s all,” he stammered. “You know her brother passed away. I was just doing this for him. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
I stayed quiet, letting him stumble through his pathetic excuses.
Kurt, Gwyneth‘ s brother, had been
Gerard‘ s friend, Back when Gerard was struggling to get his business off the ground, Kurt rushed to deliver a flashdrive to him but
ended up in a car accident.
He was rushed to the ER but didn’t make it.
Before he died, he made Gerard promise to look after his sister.
And Gerard kept that promise. He took care of
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her really well.
What started as a distant concern turned into
him involving himself in every little detail of her life.
I sniffled. There were only a few days left before I left for good. I didn’t see the point in holding anything back anymore.
“Don’t worry about me getting the wrong idea,” I said softly. “Honestly, if you and Gwyneth got married, I think it’d be a good match…”
Before I could finish, his hand struck my face, the slap ringing out sharp and clear.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled. “Gwyneth only sees me as her brother! Do you think she’s as cheap as you?”
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her really well.
What started as a distant concern turned into
him involving himself in every little detail of her life.
I sniffled. There were only a few days left before I left for good. I didn’t see the point in holding anything back anymore.
“Don’t worry about me getting the wrong idea,” I said softly. “Honestly, if you and Gwyneth got married, I think it’d be a good match…”
Before I could finish, his hand struck my face, the slap ringing out sharp and clear.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled. “Gwyneth only sees me as her brother! Do you think she’s as cheap as you?”
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The sting on my cheek burned hot like fire.
Yeah, Gwyneth isn’t like me. She didn’t throw herself at him like some cheap fling.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but before they could fall, I caught the flicker of panic on his face.
His tone softened. “I… I didn’t mean that.
I’m sorry.
99
For a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. “Gerard, I’m getting…”
But his ringtone cut me off.
He answered, and a woman’s voice echoed through the cold quiet bedroom.
“G–Gerard! I had a nightmare! I dreamed about my brother… I‘ m… I‘ m so
scared…”
