Alone in the hospital bed, watching the IV drip, my mind replayed the images from Ella’s Instagram account. Every time I saw them together, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest. The pain was so intense that I could hardly breathe.
They must have been sure I didn't use short video apps, that I wouldn't find out. That’s why they were so bold, so shameless in flaunting their relationship. In the story they were creating, I was nothing more than the mistress, the one who didn’t belong.
How could I let them get away with it?
I had kept all the evidence. I came to James today to give him a chance to confess, to say it himself. But now, it seems unnecessary.
After James left, I received a message.
Ella: Are you so comfortable without a job? If I were you, I would have broken up with Mr. Carter a long time ago.
Her words stung, but they were wrong. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a job; I had passed the selected students’ interview months ago.
I stayed in the cinema, lost in my thoughts, until the afternoon. When I finally stood up to leave, I bumped into David Moore, my childhood sweetheart.
"Are you back?" he asked, his tone casual.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice flat.
"For James?"