Cold.
She didn't know if it was the evening breeze or the emptiness inside her, but she felt cold.
Lily stood there, unmoving, her cheek still burning from the slap. Her stomach ached from the kick, but none of it compared to the pain inside her chest. It was suffocating—like someone had reached into her ribcage and crushed her heart in their grip.
This isn't real…
It can't be real.
But it was.
Her body refused to move at first, as if her mind was still hoping that this was all just a nightmare. That any second now, she'd wake up, and he would still be the man who smiled at her like she was his entire world. But the truth remained, and no dream would undo it.
Eventually, her feet moved.
One slow, heavy step at a time.
The once-familiar streets felt foreign now. The soft glow of streetlights, the distant hum of cars, the rustling leaves—she had walked this path countless times before, but tonight… it felt like she didn’t belong.
Her thoughts spiraled, twisting and clawing at her sanity.
"Why?"
Why did he do this to her? Why did he smile at her just days ago, telling her she was beautiful, that he loved her? Was it all just a lie? Had he ever truly loved her at all?
Was she not enough?
Was she not pretty enough?
Her reflection in a shop window caught her eye, and for the first time, she truly stared at herself.
Her small frame, her pale skin, her delicate features.
She wasn’t tall or curvy like the woman he held in his arms. She wasn’t bold, seductive, or brimming with confidence. She was just… Lily.
Was that why?
Was it her fault?
Was she truly that boring? That pathetic?
Her steps became unsteady, and she almost tripped on the pavement. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms.
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"Was I really that worthless to him?"
The memory of his words played over and over in her mind, like a cruel melody she couldn’t escape.
"I only stayed because I pitied you."
"You’re boring. Pathetic."
"I don’t even know how I put up with you for so long."
It hurt.
God, it hurt so much.
Her home was only a few blocks away now, but every step felt like dragging her own corpse forward. She wanted to scream, to cry, to break something—anything.
But all she could do was walk.
Silent.
Alone.
With nothing but the weight of his betrayal pressing down on her like an endless abyss.
Lily’s steps felt light, yet every step weighed heavier on her chest. Her mind was flooded with those damned whispers that refused to stop.
"You’re boring."
"Not attractive enough."
"Not pretty enough."
"He only pitied you."
Lily bit her lip. Enough! But her brain wouldn’t listen. The more she tried to push the voices away, the deeper they dug into her thoughts, like thorns tearing apart what little confidence she had left.
By the time she reached home, she walked in without a second thought, not caring about the silence that greeted her. Without turning on the lights, she kicked off her shoes and headed straight to her room.
BAM!
The door slammed shut, and Lily threw herself onto the bed.
"Ughhh!!"
She rolled around, gripping her pillow, covering her face with both hands.
Frustrated.
Angry.
Furious.
Everything inside her was swirling like a storm.
"Why me?! Why did he do this?! What did I lack?!"
Her hands reached for her phone still in her pocket. Her fingers trembled as the screen lit up. A part of her wanted to check her messages, to see an apology, to believe that this was all just a misunderstanding.
But… there was nothing.
No texts.
No calls.
No apologies.
He didn’t even care.
Lily scoffed, tossing her phone onto the floor. She couldn’t just sit here. Something inside her was clawing to get out. The rage, the pain, the wreckage in her heart—it needed to be released.
Without thinking, she stormed out of her room and headed to the small gym in her house. The bright fluorescent light flickered on, revealing her punching bag, hanging silently in the middle of the room.
She grabbed her gloves, shoving her hands into them with force.
THUD!
The first punch was hesitant.
THUD! THUD!
The second hit harder.
Then faster, stronger.
THUD! THUD! THUD THUD THUD THUD!!
Her fists pounded against the bag, over and over, again and again. Her breathing grew heavy, sweat dripping down her forehead, but she didn’t care.
"Bastard!! Why?! Why did you do this to me?!"
Each punch carried a fraction of the pain inside her, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
THUD! THUD! THUD!!
Hours passed.
Her punches grew weaker. Her arms trembled. Exhaustion crept in, hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she refused to stop. She wouldn’t let the pain in her heart win.
But in the end…
Thud.
Her body collapsed onto the floor.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her hands felt numb, her arms limp, and her stomach growled loudly.
She stared at the ceiling with empty eyes, unable to move. But strangely enough…
For the first time since that evening, her heart felt just a little bit lighter.
~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUE~~~~~~~~~
So… how much can a person push themselves before they break? Or maybe the real question is—does breaking even matter if no one is around to see it?
What’s next? A moment of clarity? A deeper descent? Or maybe… something else entirely?