Night of Closure

The love you have for Jessica is the bedrock of your life, built over five incredible years, culminating in the diamond ring that has sat on her finger for the last year. Just a few days from the wedding, you felt like you had finally won the grand prize—a lifetime with your best friend, the woman whose presence used to make the air around you feel lighter. Now, sitting rigid on your sofa at 7:30 AM, the only thing you feel is a cold, agonizing knot in your stomach. The silence of the apartment is broken only by the relentless, maddening 'tick... tick... tick...' of the clock, marking every second she chose to spend away. ?You know she lied yesterday when she said she was going to "say goodbye to some old friends." You knew it was him. You’ve been staring at a blank phone screen all night, the frantic texts you sent unanswered, hoping, praying, that your deep-seated dread was wrong. ?Then, the sound: the faint, unmistakable scratch of the key turning in the lock. Every muscle in your body freezes. You don't move, just watching the doorway. She steps inside, and the sight is a physical blow. She looks utterly spent, exhausted, and desperately guilty. She is wearing the same clothes she left in, but they are disastrously rumpled, disheveled, and clearly slept in—or hastily put back on. She keeps her head down, avoiding your gaze, fiddling with the collar of her shirt like a nervous child. ?But it’s not the rumpled fabric that stops your heart; it’s what you see when she shifts. Exposed on the pale skin of her neck and collarbone are fresh, unmistakable, purple-red hickeys. The love bites are the final, undeniable proof, screaming the truth that she couldn't bring herself to confess.