“Do you want me to leave first?” she asked quietly. As if she was both afraid of the answer and pained from knowing it.

They were standing face to face— she with her friends behind her and him with a girl. She looked at him blankly, trying to give the burden to him because right now, she doesn’t feel anything.The initial shock was too much and the numbing sensation is swallowing whatever anger she may supposed to show.

It was his decision, after all. To cheat. To lie. It was just too bad that the exact day he planned to have a date with his new girl was also the day her friends asked her to go out. Too bad. She didn’t plan to shop for a broken heart after all.

“Please,” he said with desperation in his voice and his eyes.

Please what? Please just leave and don’t create a scene? Please leave me alone? Please answer it yourself?

She stared at the eyes she had looked at for 2 years, at the eyes who told her she is beautiful at every single moment and made her believe in herself. Why do they look so different right now? Why does it seem like they can’t wait to get rid of her from the view?

You really didn’t’ love me, did you? I was just another one of your challenges. Damn, it actually hurts now that I think about it. But I guess there’s just no switch into unloving someone that easily even if that someone happens to make you a fool in front of everyone else.

“Let’s go.”
Forgive me just this time self. Let me love him just this last time, okay?

She passed by him with a straight face, trying to grasp for whatever small dignity and pride that’s been keeping her two legs from giving out, that’s been keeping her from breaking down in front of everyone else and showing any emotion which would betray her feelings.

We already told you, didn’t we? He’s known for leaving women behind and you didn’t listen to us.
That would surely come from her friends. Not now. But later when they think she has gotten over it.

See? It didn’t last. She keeps saying to everybody how he’d changed for her but she was just another girl, wasn’t she? Poor her.
She can already hear the whispers and giggles from the hallway. Not that it matters to her. It’s just that, she didn’t think of the day that she’d be reminded by everyone  how utterly stupid she was.

I’m alright.
She already feels pathetic  knowing that she’ll eventually say that to herself, hear those words spoken as prayer at nights to keep away the thoughts of not being enough, of the absolute denial that comes after and of the bitterness for actually believing someone could give her the love she cannot give to herself.