I heard her but I didn’t believe her, it was anger talking, hurt. “I’m sorry Tye, I’m sorry.” She held the knife at her side, I kissed her on the forehead and stepped around her. “I’m sorry too,” was what I heard before I felt the sharp pain and fell to the ground, my legs numb, my heart racing. She stood over me and cried before she brought the knife down into my chest.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
Standing at the doorway of the kitchen, the food smelling delicious, her favorite wine chilling in the bucket I got her for her birthday I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d cheated on me and instead of walking away I cheated on her. We fought, screamed, cursed, stopped talking but some kind of way we found our way back to each other. For months I’ve been pretending that I didn’t see his face every time I kissed her, that I didn’t think about whether or not she put her lips around his dick. Nights I didn’t answer or return a text fast enough I could hear the worry, the anger in her voicemails. Our trust was dead and I wasn’t happy.
“We’re strangers, there wasn’t a night we didn’t spend in each other’s bed and…
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