His Ex Moved In? I Kicked Them Both Out

Chapter 3

Gritting my teeth and bracing myself against the wall, I dragged myself outside, step by step.

The elevator arrived.

I stepped inside and leaned against the cold wall before I dared to breathe.

The night wind was biting.

It was so cold that it made me shiver.

I ordered a car and stood alone by the curb, waiting. My phone buzzed nonstop in my pocket. Arthur kept calling.

I didn't answer.

I stared at his name on the screen, my finger hovering over the answer button, but I pulled it back. I didn't want to pick up anymore; I didn't even know what to say.

The car arrived.

Biting back the pain, I climbed in and gave the driver the hospital's address.

He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I probably looked terrible, but he didn't ask any questions.

A dull ache throbbed in my lower back, coming in waves, one after another.

I closed my eyes and pressed my hand against the spot, only to realize that my hand was shaking.

I took a deep breath and looked out the window.

My reflection stared back at me in the glass. My eyes were red, my makeup was ruined, and I looked pathetic. Suddenly, it all felt so ridiculous.

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctor took off his glasses, looked at my X-ray, and then looked at me. "How did this happen?"

"I hit it," I replied.

"How?"

I didn't answer.

The doctor didn't push.

He simply looked down and wrote on my chart, the pen scratching across the paper.

"If you don't take proper care of this back injury, it could leave lasting damage."

I lowered my eyes and murmured, "Got it."

I walked out of the hospital.

The early morning wind bit into my collar, making me hunch my shoulders.

The streetlights stretched my shadow out, long and thin.

I stood alone at the hospital entrance as my phone continued to buzz.

Arthur had called twenty-three times and sent forty-eight messages on w******p.

I opened them and read the messages.

Arthur: Where are you?

Arthur: Can you just stop acting out?

Arthur: Fine, I'm sorry, okay? Come back now. Stop being so childish!

I stood under the streetlight, staring up at the pitch-black sky.

I let out a bitter laugh. He was my boyfriend; the house was mine.

And yet, here I was, homeless at 3:00 a.m.

How absurd. How ridiculous. It was so ridiculous that I couldn't even cry.

The wind picked up.

The latest message read:

Arthur: Are you done throwing a tantrum? Can you stop being such a drama queen?

I stared at that line. I stared at it for a long time.