Flimsy Excuses
1117 Words
The door creaked open, its sound oddly loud in the otherwise muffled stillness.
Irene stepped into the room, her pulse thundering in her ears as her eyes landed on the bed.
The sight before her was like a slap, freezing her in place.
Dave was sprawled in the middle of the bed, his arm draped lazily over Diane—her best friend. Next to them lay Tom, Dave’s so-called best friend, the sheets tangled around their naked forms.
The smell of sweat and musk hung in the air, unmistakable and revolting.
Irene’s throat tightened, her voice catching before she managed a strained, “What is going on here?”
Three pairs of eyes turned toward her, not with guilt, not with shock, but with a kind of casual indifference that twisted the knife even deeper.
Diane smirked lazily, her lips curling as she propped herself up on an elbow.
“Oh, you’re home early,” Diane said, her voice light, almost amused.
“Are you serious?” Irene’s voice cracked, trembling with the weight of her disbelief. “Diane… Dave… Tom? What—” She took a shaky breath, her chest heaving. “What is this?”
Diane shrugged, completely unbothered. “It’s exactly what it looks like, Irene. No need to overreact.”
“Overreact?” Irene’s voice rose, breaking as tears welled in her eyes. She turned her gaze to Dave, who hadn’t moved. “Dave… say something!”
Dave let out a sigh, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want me to say, Irene?” he muttered, his tone devoid of remorse.
“You weren’t giving me what I needed. This is just… well, it’s how things turned out.”
“What you needed?” Irene’s voice wavered, her tears now spilling freely. She stepped closer, her trembling hand clutching the edge of the doorframe for support.
“We talked about this! You said you understood—”
“And I did, for a while,” Dave cut her off, his tone hardening. “But come on, Irene. You’ve been stringing me along for years. Do you know how frustrating that is?”
Her breath hitched, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t ready. You knew that. You promised you’d wait.”
“Promises don’t mean anything when you’re constantly holding back,” he snapped. “I’m a man, Irene. I have needs. You expected me to just… what? Keep waiting forever while you figure things out?”
Irene’s hands trembled, her nails digging into her palms. She turned to Diane, her voice shaking with a mix of heartbreak and fury. “And you? You’re supposed to be my best friend! How could you do this to me?”
Diane rolled her eyes, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Oh, please, Irene. Don’t act so innocent.
You’ve been dangling him like a carrot, making him wait for something you had no intention of giving. I just… stepped in where you wouldn’t.”
“Stepped in?” Irene choked out, her voice breaking. “You betrayed me, Diane. You—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her chest heaving as the pain clawed its way through her.
“It’s not that deep,” Diane said with a shrug. “If you couldn’t keep him happy, someone else was bound to. You should’ve seen this coming.”
Irene stared at her, the weight of the betrayal suffocating. She turned back to Dave, her voice desperate. “Is this what we’ve come to, Dave? Throwing away everything we built because you couldn’t wait?”
Dave shrugged, leaning back against the headboard as if the conversation bored him. “Look, Irene. It’s not like you’ve been perfect, either. Always acting like you’re too good for me, making me beg for every little thing.”
Her stomach churned, her hands curling into fists. “I loved you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I believed in you. And this is what I get?”
“You loved me,” Dave repeated mockingly. “But love doesn’t doesn’t keep a man satisfied.
You’ve been holding back, putting up walls, and expecting me to just… deal with it. Well, I’m done dealing with it as you can see.”
Her knees buckled slightly, and she gripped the doorframe to steady herself.
She turned her tear-streaked face to Tom, who had remained silent the entire time. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Tom shrugged, his expression as detached as the others. “Not much to say, Irene. It just happened.”
“Just happened?” she repeated, her voice breaking into a hysterical laugh.
“You all make it sound like some kind of accident. Like I’m supposed to just… accept this?”
Diane chuckled, her laugh sharp and cold. “You’re being dramatic, Irene. It’s not the end of the world.
Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson for next time.”
The words hit her like a slap, the final blow in an already crushing moment. Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled backward.
Dave sighed heavily, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Irene, just join us. This isn’t exactly worthy of making a scene over.
Her breath caught, a sharp, painful gasp that felt like it would split her chest. She backed out of the room, her movements jerky and unsteady.
As she turned, her foot caught on the edge of the door, sending her sprawling to the ground.
A sharp pain shot through her knee, but the humiliation burned hotter. Behind her, she heard Diane’s laughter—sharp, mocking, and cruel.
“Careful, Irene,” Diane called, her tone dripping with mockery.
The laughter echoed in her ears as she scrambled to her feet, one of her shoes slipping off in her haste.
She didn’t stop to pick it up. She didn’t stop to look back. She just ran.
Down the stairs, out the building, into the street—she ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached.
The city blurred around her, the lights and sounds melding into a cacophony that barely registered.
She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get away. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind replaying the scene over and over.
The smirks, the excuses, the laughter—it all clawed at her, tearing her apart from the inside.
Finally, her steps slowed, her energy spent. She found herself standing outside a bar, its neon sign glowing faintly in the evening light.
Without thinking, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
- Writer
