The Eve Before

"Again! Marcus, you know what f**k you and that tiny devil," Evelyn cursed. " Eve, calm down and I really hope Amy is not 'that tiny devil' " he replied " You very well know who I'm referring to you f*****g i***t this is the third time you're doing this we plan a date you find and excuse and stand me up. Last time it was work, this time it's Amy, and God knows what it will be next time-if there even is a next time. You know what I don't know why I bother trying to fix your f*****g life.. it's over Marcus" She said hanging up and dumping her phone into her new Chanel purse. She looked around suddenly aware of her surroundings. She faked a smile and hurriedly left the restaurant. "Motherfucker made me waste Five thousand f*****g dollar booking this place only for 'something' to come up" she muttered to herself as she walked to her car, got in, and locked the door. The tears she'd tried to hold back poured freely now, ruining her makeup. The year had been good in every way but one: business was thriving, she went on trips almost every month, and turned thirty. She had everything- or so she thought, she had already been in five relationships this year with Marcus being the sixth- each relationship had felt like the breakthrough she needed, only to be shattered by disappointment. She wasn't sure if she was just unlucky, or if she simply wasn’t meant for love. Wiping her tears with the sleeve of her dress, she started her car and pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. Moments later, her phone buzzed — a message from Marcus: We need to talk. She ignored it, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. She had earlier planned to go home, but the urge suddenly faded. Instead, she turned the car toward a nearby bar, seeking something—anything at all—to distract her. "A few shots Eve and then you get yourself some rest" --- She didn’t even remember how many drinks she’d had. The bar had been dim, full of strangers laughing too loud, and the heat from the whiskey had crawled down her throat like fire. It hadn’t helped. Not really. The ache remained—deep in her chest, behind her ribs, throbbing with every beat of her heart. Marcus. Always Marcus. She could still see his name glowing on her screen like a ghost that wouldn’t stop haunting her. 'We need to talk'. As if that message hadn’t already said everything. The snow thickened as she drove, covering the road in a soft, deceptive white. The city’s edges blurred, headlights bleeding into the fog like watercolor. She blinked hard, trying to focus, but the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the storm or her thoughts. Her mind wandered. To the fight. To the emptiness she’d pretended she didn’t feel. The world outside spun slowly, dizzily—just like the thoughts crowding her head. What was she even doing out here? Her fingers gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale. The heater blew warm air on her frozen fingers, but she still felt cold. Then the light. The streetlight. The glow was too close, too sudden—like a star falling straight toward her. There was a flash. Metal screamed. And then, nothing but silence. ---