I heard a soft knock on my door, almost hesitant, it was as though the person on the other side wasn’t sure if they had the right to be there. I sat frozen on the couch, my mind swirling with many thoughts, yet none of them was prepared for what was about to happen.
The past few days had been a flood of accusations, heartbreak, and a constant ache in my chest. I was tired—tired of crying, tired of being dragged around by the tabloids, tired of the constant ache of betrayal. I was exhausted from the question that kept repeating itself in my head: What now?
I wasn’t expecting anything. Certainly not an apology from him. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting at all. But as I stood up to go open the door. I felt deep down that I knew who it was.
As I opened the door, and there he was — Jack. T
