Chapter 2
1162 Words
Hugo and I had been together since our school days, and back then, we were really in love, truly believing that as long as we loved each other, we could get through absolutely anything.
His dream was to become a photographer, but his family was poor and couldn't afford a camera, so I saved every cent I could and worked two part-time jobs, and on his birthday, I gave him a DSLR camera.
He held the camera, and he held me too, smiling as he promised, "Addie, once I make it big, I'm going to let the whole world know that you're the one I love most."
I believed him. I really thought we would be happy like that for the rest of our lives.
But at some point, without me even realizing it, he started to change.
The first time I found out he was cheating was when I saw the chat logs on his phone with a model, and all that flirty talk and those explicit nicknames he had never once called me made the blood in my veins run ice cold.
I cried my heart out and threw the phone right down in front of him.
He groveled and hugged my legs as he apologized, "I was wrong. I just had too much to drink, and my heart belongs to only you."
When I saw how pathetic and desperate he looked, my heart softened, and I forgave him, because we had been together for so many years, and I couldn't bear to end it like that.
But all my giving in and backing down did was bring me even more hurt from him, over and over.
Later on, he kept cheating, going from one-night stands to having long-term friends with benefits.
He stopped feeling guilty and stopped trying to make things right with me, and all that was left was his impatience, as he would say, "Can you stop being so paranoid all the time? I'm just networking."
I started having trouble sleeping, lying awake night after night without being able to close my eyes.
The first time I tried to end my life, I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills.
He even posted her picture publicly on social media, and the caption said, "My muse."
He stayed by my hospital bed and never left my side, telling me with red-rimmed eyes, "I'm so sorry, Addie. I really will change."
But less than a month later, I caught him again at a hotel, and then a second time, and a third time, over and over.
I used every way I could think of to hurt myself just so he would have no choice but to come back to me, but the cracks between us only got deeper and deeper, and he started telling me I was getting on his nerves and that he was sick of me using suicide to hold him hostage.
Then, Loria showed up, a model he met at a photography exhibition, beautiful and glowing.
She was more understanding than me, better at acting cute and playfully sweet, and she knew better how to make him happy.
Hugo gave her all the devotion and special treatment without a second thought, taking her to every place he once promised he would only ever take me and giving her so many thoughtful, carefully chosen gifts.
He even posted her picture publicly on social media with the caption that said: My muse.
I was treated like some dirty little secret that wasn't supposed to see the light of day. I had to secretly make an alt account to look at Loria's social media pages, and her pinned post was a photo of her and Hugo together, with him looking down at her, his eyes filled with nothing but love for her, the kind of look I hadn't seen from him in a very long time.
I completely fell apart and finally understood that no matter how much I acted out, we were never going to go back to the way things used to be.
*****
Then, for once, Hugo actually offered to pick me up from work, and as pathetic as it sounds, it still made me feel happy.
But when I opened the car door, Loria was sitting right there in the passenger seat, wearing a slip dress that left her smooth shoulders bare, and she smiled and said to me, "Hey, Addie, sorry about this. My car broke down, so I'm just catching a ride."
I stood there frozen, feeling all the blood rush to my head.
Hugo leaned over from the driver's seat and asked, "What are you standing there for? Get in."
I didn't move.
He frowned and warned me, "Don't start trouble."
I gritted my teeth and climbed into the back seat.
The whole way there, Loria kept talking about all sorts of things—funny stories from photo shoots, her future plans, and how Hugo was going to hold a solo exhibition for her one day.
That was when I finally couldn't hold back the feelings I had been bottling up for so long, and I screamed, "Stop the car! I want to get out!"
Loria said, sounding all hurt, "Addie doesn't seem to be feeling very well, so maybe..."
"Don't you dare fake being nice!" I yelled at her.
Hugo slammed on the brakes and turned his head to glare at me. "What the hell is wrong with you now?! Did you even think about how I feel when you pull stunts like this? Can you grow up for once? I keep telling you, Loria and I are just colleagues!"
I shot back, "Since when does work mean texting each other until midnight every single night? Or you going out of your way to celebrate her birthday?"
Hugo's face got darker and darker.
Loria rubbed her eyes and started crying, "Hugo, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."
"This has nothing to do with you." He started driving again, then said in a cold voice, "Adeline, if you can't take it anymore, you're free to break up with me."
Ten years of being together, and it finally came down to this.
Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over, and I wiped them away hard. "Fine, then pull the car over right now!"
"I'll take you home first, and then we'll talk," he replied.
We kept arguing nonstop, and Hugo wasn't paying attention to the road, the car was going faster and faster.
When we reached an intersection, a truck suddenly rushed out from the side, its blinding headlights flooding through the window.
Without a second thought, Hugo threw himself toward the passenger seat and shielded Loria with his body.
At that exact same moment, I threw myself toward the driver's seat and used my body to shield him.
Excruciating pain exploded through my whole body, and my vision started going dark in waves, until I completely lost consciousness.
- Writer
