PRINCESS
The days blurred together, each one indistinguishable from the last. My shop remained my sanctuary, and Kat, my only constant. But even her presence couldn't fill the growing void left by CJ. The man who once seemed to be the anchor in my chaotic life had drifted away, and I was left to navigate the storm alone.
CJ's absence was palpable. His texts became sporadic, his visits rare. When he did come home, it was as if a ghost had entered the room—there in form but devoid of spirit. I tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that something was amiss, but the universe had a way of making its intentions clear.
One evening, as I was scrolling through Facebook, a post caught my eye. It was from CJ's colleague, congratulating him on his promotion. My heart sank. He hadn't mentioned anything. Not a word. The realization hit me like a freight train—CJ was moving on, and he hadn't even thought to include me in his new chapter.
My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion swirling within me. How could he have kept something so significant from me? I thought we shared everything, that we were partners in every sense of the word. The tears started to fall, unbidden and relentless, as the reality of our drifting relationship settled in.
I sat on the couch, the room dark except for the dim glow of my phone screen. Memories of our time together flooded my mind—the late-night talks, the dreams we had shared, the promises we had made. How had we come to this point? When had the love we once had become so distant, so fractured?
I remembered the early days of our relationship, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, the warmth of his touch, the way he made me feel safe and cherished. We had built dreams together, whispered our hopes for the future in the quiet of the night. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, haunting reminders of what we once had.
The shop had always been a place of solace, a haven where I could lose myself in the rhythm of work and the comfort of familiarity. But lately, even that had failed to bring me peace. Kat, ever supportive and kind, sensed my turmoil but didn't press for details. Her presence was a balm, but it couldn't heal the deep wounds CJ's absence had inflicted.
I clutched my phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through old messages, reliving moments of love and laughter. Each word felt like a dagger, a painful reminder of how far we had fallen. I wanted to scream, to cry out at the unfairness of it all. How could someone who had meant everything to me become so distant, so detached?
In the dim light, I composed a message to CJ, my heart heavy with sorrow and longing. I wanted to ask him why, to understand what had changed, to find a way back to the love we had lost. But as I stared at the screen, the words felt inadequate, unable to capture the depth of my pain.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the send button. What if he didn't respond? What if he confirmed my worst fears? The uncertainty was a crushing weight, pressing down on my chest until I could barely breathe.
With a shaky breath, I deleted the message and set the phone aside. No words could bridge the chasm that had grown between us. I buried my face in my hands, the tears flowing freely, each one a testament to the love that had once burned so brightly but was now flickering, threatening to extinguish altogether.
In that moment, I felt utterly alone, adrift in a sea of heartache and confusion. The future, once so full of promise, now seemed bleak and uncertain. And as the darkness closed in around me, I couldn't help but wonder if we could ever find our way back to each other or if this was the beginning of the end.
When CJ finally walked through the door, exhaustion etched on his face, I couldn't hold back any longer. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.
He looked at me, confusion clouding his features. "Tell you what?"
"Your promotion," I spat out, unable to contain the bitterness. "I had to find out through Facebook. Do I mean so little to you?"
CJ's expression hardened. "I didn't think it was a big deal," he replied curtly, brushing past me.
"Not a big deal?" I echoed, my voice rising. "You didn't think it was important to share a significant part of your life with me?"
He spun around, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You're making a big deal out of nothing, Princess. I have a lot on my plate right now."
"Clearly," I shot back. "So much that you can't even spare a moment to talk to me."
The argument escalated, voices clashing like thunder in a storm. Words were thrown like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. And then, CJ shouted—really shouted, for the first time. His voice boomed, reverberating through the small space of our home.
"Just stop it, Princess! I'm tired of this—tired of you!"
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the growing chasm between us. CJ didn't apologize. He didn't even look at me. He simply turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, shattered and alone.
In that moment, I knew it was over. The universe had spoken, and its message was clear. No matter how many realities I traversed, no matter how many times I tried to rewrite my fate, the outcome was always the same. Happiness was a fleeting illusion, and I was destined to be a loser in every universe.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had cried enough for a lifetime. Instead, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I would survive this, just as I had survived everything else. I would pick up the pieces of my broken heart and move forward.
But the truth was, the pain was unbearable. It felt like my heart was being ripped apart, piece by piece. Every memory, every shared laugh, every intimate moment we had ever shared played in my mind like a cruel, never-ending reel. The weight of his words, the way he had dismissed me so easily, was a wound that cut deeper than any physical pain I had ever experienced.
The days following our argument were a blur of emptiness and sorrow. I went through the motions of life, but it felt as if I were moving in a fog. The shop, once my haven, now felt like a prison, a constant reminder of the life I had built with CJ that was now crumbling around me. Kat tried to comfort me, but even her warmth and kindness couldn't reach the depths of my despair.
Nights were the worst. Alone in our bed, the silence was deafening. I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the cold void where CJ's warmth used to be. Every creak of the house, every distant car passing by, only amplified the crushing loneliness. I would often find myself crying, the tears flowing freely in the dark, where no one could see my weakness.
I would clutch my pillow, pretending it was CJ, hoping to find some solace in the fabric that still carried his scent. But it was never enough. The emptiness was too vast, the hurt too deep. I would whisper into the night, calling out to him, begging him to come back, to make things right. But the only response was the echo of my own heartbreak.
One particularly bleak night, I found myself scrolling through our old messages again. Each one was a relic of happier times, a testament to the love we once shared. I lingered on the messages from the early days of our relationship, when everything was new and exciting. The way he used to call me "Princess," the sweet little notes he would leave me, the plans we made for the future—they were all there, haunting me with what could have been.
As I read through the messages, I came across a photo CJ had sent me. It was of us at the beach, our smiles wide and carefree, the ocean behind us stretching out to infinity. We looked so happy, so in love. I remembered that day vividly—the way he had held my hand as we walked along the shore, the way he had whispered sweet nothings into my ear as the sun set. It was a perfect day, a perfect memory. And now it was tainted by the pain of our present reality.
I threw my phone across the room in a fit of rage and despair. The sound of it hitting the wall and the subsequent silence only made the emptiness more profound. I sank to the floor, my body wracked with sobs. How had we come to this? How had something so beautiful turned so ugly?
I stayed there on the floor for what felt like hours, the weight of my sorrow pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Eventually, I dragged myself to bed, my body and spirit utterly exhausted. But sleep offered no escape. My dreams were filled with images of CJ—his face, his voice, his touch. I would wake up in the middle of the night, my heart racing, the tears already streaming down my face.
I began to dread the dawn, the start of another day without him. The shop, my once-beloved refuge, became a place of torment. Each customer, each transaction, was a painful reminder of the life I was living without him. I plastered on a smile, pretended everything was fine, but inside I was falling apart. Kat knew, of course. She could see the pain I tried to hide, but she respected my need for space and gave me the silent support I so desperately needed.
Because in every universe, I am a loser.
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