But, when I open my eyes, she’s still there, lying naked, in her bed with another man.
It has to be a mistake.
She’s perfect.
She loves me.
She would never hurt me like this.
Never.
I take a breath, finally able to breathe, when I realize that it is some sort of mistake. She has to have an explanation for what is happening.
“Sloane, what’s going on?” I ask like I’m not witnessing what I am.
“I’m sorry,” she says with tears in her eyes.
Two words.
“I’m sorry.”
They tell me everything I need to know.
She cheated on me.
She broke my heart.
She made me believe in love and then destroyed me.
I’ll never recover from this.
I know that.
I loved her more than I loved stealing.
I loved her more than I loved surfing.
I loved her more than I loved breathing.
But she didn’t love me back.
Or, if she did, she was too scared to just be in love with me.
She had to ruin any chance that we had.
My initial gut reaction is to walk over and punch the naked man in the face. He deserves it.
But then, when women slept with me, I never thought I was the reason for them to have strayed. Well, at least, not the full reason.
People aren’t supposed to get married. Everlasting love doesn’t exist.
I knew that.
But I let myself fall in love with Sloane anyway.
I want to hate her. Yell at her. Do something to show her how angry I am with her.
But I’m not really angry. At least, not with her.