I don’t know how long I stay in the car. All I know is that I’ve cried until my eyes are completely dry, and when all that’s left is the pounding ache in my head, I drive home with one goal in mind.
I walk into my room and pull from my nightstand drawer the keys to his apartment.
The apartment he bought so he could f**k me whenever he wanted.
When I get back in the car, it doesn’t take long to reach the building where he lives.
These keys are the only connection I still have to him—and I don’t want anything of his anymore.
As the elevator takes me up to his floor, I can’t help wondering if maybe he’s there.
I shake my head at my own stupid thought.
He’s probably at the pub with her, celebrating her return and picking things up where they left off.
I’ll just leave the keys and go.
