I bit my lip hard, watching blood drip from my fingertips as if it were my heart bleeding. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle it; I just didn’t want to be the fool in love.
Looking briefly at the wine glass before Carrie, I suddenly understood why the pregnancy test hadn't shown two lines.
Mark, if you want to play this way … I won't hold back.
I grabbed my bag and left decisively for the hospital.
The wound needed eight stitches, but I did not even flinch. Because compared to this superficial pain, the ripped-open wound in my heart sent a chill through my entire body.
After getting the wound treated, my screen lit up. It was not from missed calls or messages from Mark. Instead, their little group chat was buzzing with activity as new messages kept popping up constantly.
They were all photos and videos from David and the others, documenting their continued drinking and frolicking.
In the pictures, Cassie held up her bandaged arm, beaming with joy, while Mark smiled as he wiped cream from her cheek.
With my absence, the tenderness in his eyes was clear as the day.
As the group chat continued buzzing with activities, a sixty-second voice message popped up.