Beautiful Soul

The heartbreak

Brenda's POV

I forced a smile, staring at the two of them, unsure of what to say. I had seen the signs—all the red flags.

"Bestie, huh? With your shirt," I mumbled, my voice trembling as I tried to hold back my tears. I wanted to sound strong, but the bitterness in my throat made it impossible.

And then, I finally broke out in tears.

Michael let out an irritated sigh. "What is wrong with you?"

Wait. He didn't just say that. Did he?

"It's just a shirt, for crying out loud. A damn shirt! You're overthinking, Brenda." He hissed loudly, running a hand through his hair. "You wouldn’t do it, right? You said you wouldn’t give me your body unless we were married. Five years, Brenda. Five years of patience! I even asked you to move in, and you refused. Honestly, you should be grateful to Maria for keeping me company. If not, this relationship—" he scoffed—"it would've ended a long time ago."

I started laughing. A slow, empty laugh that filled the silence. Because he sounded so funny. I realized, in that moment, what a fool I had been. What was I even thinking all these years? That we would end up together? That he actually loved me?

What a joke.

"What?" He frowned, gazing frantically at me."Don't give me that look. Why are you even here?" He continued.

I took a deep breath, stretching my hand toward him. The engagement ring shimmered under the light.

"Why is this still on my finger?" I whispered.

Before Michael could speak, Maria chuckled, shaking her head like she had been waiting for this moment.

"Oh, Brenda," He sighed dramatically, giving Maria a smirk. "Do you even look at yourself in the mirror when you wake up? Babe, you’ll be twenty-seven this year. You’re not as fresh and beautiful as you think." He scoffed, eyes gleaming with cruelty. "I’m actually doing you a favor. You’re outdated, Brenda. It’s time to wake up."

I felt something inside me shatter. Not just my heart—something deeper. Something irreparable.

I looked straight into his eyes, searching for even the smallest hint of regret. A flicker of guilt. Anything. Just Any—thing. But all I saw was indifference.

Slowly, I pulled the ring off my finger and placed it in his palm.

“What are you doing? Breaking up with me?” he asked, confused.

I inhaled sharply, my lips curving into a bitter smile.

"You—are—a—pig," I said, each word filled with finality.

And then I turned around, walking away like a drenched dog in a storm. But the worst part wasn’t leaving—it was the laughter that followed me. Their laughter. It echoed through the room, followed me out of the door. Like I ghost, I couldn't shake, the words clung to me like a helpless sheep.

"No one is gonna marry you, Brenda!" Michael's voice rang out from behind, followed by Maria’s giggles.

Even as I stepped into the street, even as I walked further away, they mocked me from the window. Their voices chased me all the way home.

By the time I reached my house, I could barely breathe. My chest felt tight, like my ribs were caving in, crushing whatever was left of me. I collapsed behind the door, pulling my knees to my chest, my body shaking with sobs.

I cried for hours. Yelled into the emptiness. But no matter how much I screamed, I couldn’t drown out the echoes of their laughter in my head.

"Oh, foolish Brenda," I muttered, letting out a choked laugh.

Through my tear-blurred vision, something on the wine bar caught my eye. A bottle of whiskey. Jeremy, my little brother, must have left it the last time he visited.

I never liked alcohol. I had never even tasted it. I thought it smelled too strong, that it would burn my chest. But tonight, none of that mattered.

As I went closer to the bar, my fears kept pulling me back, but no! I grabbed the bottle. "Johnny Walker," the label read. With a twisted grin, I uncapped it and placed it against my lips. I didn’t sip. I gulped. I kept drinking until a sharp pain tore through my chest.

I gasped, pressing a hand against my ribs. But then, I laughed again—because Michael Finsch was a disgusting bastard, and I was an even bigger fool.

I took another gulp.

Staggering to my feet, I tried to make it to my room, but my legs were already failing me. My vision blurred, my steps faltered. I stumbled, reaching for something—anything—to hold onto. But before I could steady myself, I collapsed onto the couch.

Tears stained my face, but a strange, empty smile lingered on my lips. I laughed. I cried. I did both at the same time.

The whiskey bottle sat just inches away from my grasp, but it felt so distant.

Too far.

I stretched my hand toward it, but my fingers barely brushed against the glass before my eyelids grew heavy. My body sank deeper into the couch, and my vision faded into darkness.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

I woke up to a pounding headache and an insistent knock at my door. Each knock sent another sharp throb through my skull, making the headache even worse.

Groaning, I dragged myself off the couch and shuffled toward the door, eyes still half-closed. Without thinking, I pulled it open.

"Good morning," I mumbled sleepily.

A familiar voice cut through my drowsiness.

"Are you okay?"

I blinked, rubbing my eyes quickly. Stefan.

Oh, no. My breath!

His expression was painfully obvious—his nose slightly wrinkled as he discreetly tried to cover it. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. To make it worse, he was holding out a bag and a wrapped gift.

"Ow! So sorry," he said, clearing his throat.

"You forgot your wallet in my car yesterday, so I thought I'd bring it over. Also..." He flashed a charming smile. "I added a little something. Hope you like it."

Still mortified, I simply nodded, giving him an awkward look before hesitantly taking the bag and gift.

"You must be really tired," Stefan chuckled, stepping back. "I'm heading to work, but I'll check up on you later." I forced a smile and waved him off.

The moment his car disappeared down the street, I groaned in frustration.

“Damn.” I winced at the sharp sting in my throat—and at the terrible whiff of my own breath. Gosh! It’s so bad, even I want to avoid it.

Sneaking toward my window, I peered out, watching Stefan’s car until it was completely out of sight.

"You silly girl," I muttered, giving myself a light smack on the forehead.

“Ow! My head still hurts.”

Shaking my head, I stumbled back toward the couch and collapsed onto it, still exhausted, sleep dragged me under once again, deep and dreamless.

By the time I woke up, I felt… somewhat refreshed. But the moment I stretched and sat up, a dreadful thought slammed into me—Michael. Maria.

Panic gripped me as I rushed to the window, my heart racing in anticipation. Were they outside? Were they flaunting their disgusting happiness?

But when I peered out, the street was empty.

Disappointed, I exhaled sharply and turned away. That’s when my gaze landed on the gift box sitting on my table.

I had completely forgotten about it.

For a moment, I stared at it blankly, trying to recall how it even got there. And then—

"Jeez!" I groaned, cringing as memories of my early morning encounter with Stefan flooded back.

Great. Just great.

And to make things even worse— I had a job interview today.

My eyes darted to the clock on the wall. 2:30 PM.

My interview was at 8:00 AM.

A wave of frustration crashed over me. Everything is falling apart. Can't today get any better?

Letting out a long, tired sigh, I grabbed the gift box and sat down, running my fingers over the neatly wrapped paper. Despite my frustration, curiosity clawed at me.

What did he even get me?

Anxious, I tore the wrapping open without a second thought.

The moment my eyes landed on the contents, I froze.

“A golden wristwatch?” The words barely left my lips, my fingers trembling as I traced the gleaming surface. Almost afraid to pull it out of the box.

"What does he want?"

The question lingered in my mind, twisting into something bitter. It was all too familiar.

Michael started this way too.

The realization made my stomach churn. Michael’s first gift had been a cheap, tacky bracelet. A bracelet I had once cherished.

I still remember the night we met. Vividly.

I had just been fired from my job—for refusing to date my boss. It had been raining, and I was soaked, shivering as I walked alone. That’s when Michael approached me. He offered me comfort, warmth… and, eventually, love. Or at least, what I thought was love.

A small, nostalgic smile crept onto my lips at the memory of our first meeting—until reality crashed back in.

I clenched my jaw. And look how that turned out.

With an irritated sigh, I snapped the watch box shut.

"This is how you guys start," I muttered bitterly. "I’m returning it." I added with frustration.

My stomach started to growl. I turned toward the kitchen, realizing I hadn’t eaten all day. Crying over Michael and his so-called best friend had drained every bit of energy from me.

But just as I reached the kitchen, my doorbell rang.

I froze.

"Who could that be?" I murmured, glancing at the clock again. 2:30 PM.

Stefan’s company wouldn't close around this time. Would it? And if not him, then who?

I swallowed, my heart picking up speed as I slowly made my way to the door.