I froze, feeling as though the world had stopped spinning. My hand trembled, my breath caught in my throat. I didn't wait to hear anything more. I hung up, my hand clenching the phone so hard it hurt. The sadness I'd been holding back burst forth, mingling with raw disbelief and anger.
For a few moments, I stood there in a daze, my mind struggling to process what I'd just heard. Then, almost without thinking, I began tearing through the apartment. Every photo, every reminder of our years together, I smashed or threw across the room. The picture frames shattered against the walls, glass scattering around me, but I didn't care. I was done being careful, done holding onto memories that now felt meaningless.
Finally, I stopped, breathing hard, standing amid the remnants of our past. It was like the pieces on the floor matched what I felt inside—broken, scattered, irreparable. I looked around the apartment, realizing that staying here, surrounded by these reminders, would only suffocate me.
With a newfound sense of purpose, I went to the closet, pulled out the dusty suitcase I hadn't used in years and began packing.
I had barely bought anything for myself over the years, so the few belongings I owned fit easily into my old, worn-out suitcase. As I reached into the closet for the last of my clothes, the apartment door swung open. A thick wave of alcohol hit me before I even saw him.
"Emily, did you just call me?" Leon's voice slurred, loud and intrusive. He stumbled in, his unsteady figure filling the doorway. His eyes were glassy and he reeked of booze and cheap perfume. He forced a grin, one that was both apologetic and taunting. "Don't get the wrong idea—she's just some girl from the bar. Nothing happened between us… well, you know, nothing serious, at least."
Leon's gaze drifted around the room before settling on me. His expression was muddled, a mix of confusion and amusement, as if he couldn't quite understand why I was packing. He took a step toward me, stumbling and the closer he came, the stronger that other woman's perfume clung to him. My stomach lurched, a wave of nausea hitting me at the sickening blend of scents.