Betrayal hurts
1266 Words
BETRAYAL HURTS
I’m about to use a spare key to open my boyfriend's apartment door, when i hear loud moaning and banging coming from inside.
"Oh yeah, right there baby!".
"Don't stop f*****g me with that big d**k, please!"
My heart clenches. What could be going on in there? With trembling hands, i insert the key and turn it slowly. The lock clicks and i carefully push the door open.
The scene that greets me, makes my blood run cold. My boyfriend Jake is naked on the couch, thrusting wildly between the spread legs of another woman.
Jake is grunting and sweating as he pounds into her roughly. He doesn't even notice me standing there, mouth agape in shock.
The floozy wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. "Mmmm f**k yeah, I'm gonna come all over your d**k! Don't stop!" she screeches.
I stand there frozen, hot tears welling up in my eyes.
Finally, Jake looks up and spots me in the doorway. His face goes pale. "Oh s**t," he stammers, scrambling off the woman. "Baby, this isn't what it looks like!"
I let out a harsh laugh, wiping away angry tears. "Really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you just f****d another woman on the couch!" I scream.
The skank sits up, completely unashamed. She even has the nerve to give me a smirk.
"I trusted you!" you cry, feeling my heart shatter. "I can't believe you would do this to me!"
“Melissa—wait, I can explain—” Please baby, I love you! I f****d up, but this was a huge mistake!"
“Explain?” I let out a bitter laugh, my voice shaking with anger.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for two weeks! Two damn weeks! I thought something happened to you, so I came to check. But you were just busy pounding another woman?”
He reaches out like he can fix this, but I step back, clutching the key in my hand, the same key I once used to walk into his life.
I throw it at him, hard. It hits his chest and falls to the floor with a sharp clink.
“Keep it,” I snap. “You’ll need it for your next girl.”
My chest burns, eyes stinging, but I don’t let him see me cry. I turn for the door, my voice breaking with rage.
“f**k you,” I hiss, slamming it behind me.
I rush out of the apartment, tears already blurring my vision. My hands shake as I wave down a taxi, voice cracking when I give the driver the address.
Athenora Royal Hotel, please.
The driver glances at me through the mirror, maybe noticing the mess I am, but says nothing. The city lights blur past the window, gold and cold, mocking me for ever thinking love was safe.
When the car stops, I pay him quickly and head inside. The hotel’s familiar scent of perfume and polished floors hits me, but tonight, it doesn’t feel like home.
I walk straight to the staff dressing room, and the moment the door shuts behind me, the tears fall hard. I lean against the locker, shaking, my chest tight with pain.
I call my best friend, voice trembling. “He cheated on me, Mia. I saw him. With her. On his couch.”
She gasps, her voice breaking through the phone. “Oh my God, Mel. Come home. Please. Don’t stay there tonight.”
I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “No. I need something to distract me. I’ll be fine.”
Before she can argue, I hang up. I take a deep breath, open my locker, and pull out my uniform , black skirt, white blouse, name tag shining under the light.
I change quickly, fix my hair, and stare at my reflection. My eyes are red, but my face is set. I’m not going to cry anymore.
I step out of the dressing room, push open the heavy door, and walk out.
The hotel corridors are buzzing with life tonight. The soft thump of music from the royal club mixes with laughter from guests passing by.
Everyone seems to be having a good time.
Everyone but me.
I push my service cart through the hall, pretending to focus on work, but my mind keeps replaying what I saw, him, with her, on his couch.
My heart aches all over again.
I stop outside one of the VIP suites to deliver a tray of champagne. When I knock and step in, the sound of soft music and giggles greets me.
Two couples are cozy on the couch, kissing, laughing, their happiness spilling into the room like sunlight.
The sight makes my stomach twist. I force a polite smile, but my hand shakes as I pour a glass. A little of the drink spills on the lady’s dress.
She jerks up immediately. “Are you blind?” she snaps.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I say quickly, reaching for napkins.
Before I can say more, my supervisor steps in, his expression tight.
“Melissa,” he sighs, “you’re not yourself tonight. Go home and rest.”
I nod quietly, holding back tears. “Yes, sir.”
But I don’t go home. I wheel my cart back toward the staff bar, heart pounding. “Two glasses of tequila and one vodka,” I say to the bartender, keeping my voice steady.
He nods, thinking it’s for a guest. The moment he turns away, I slip the drinks onto my tray and head for the dressing room.
Once inside, I lock the door, slide to the floor, and stare at the glasses. My reflection in the mirror looks like a stranger, red eyes, trembling lips, heartbreak written all over my face.
I grab the first glass. It burns going down.
The second one feels smoother.
By the third, the pain starts to fade, replaced by a dizzy calm.
I laugh softly, though it sounds broken. “To heartbreak,” I whisper before finishing the last one.
And just like that, I start drinking myself into a blur that I’ll regret by morning.
The hallway spins as I stumble out of the dressing room, my heels clicking unevenly on the marble floor. The world feels soft around the edges, like it’s floating.
I try to remember the way out, but the corridor looks longer than usual. Every turn feels unfamiliar, every gold door identical. I giggle quietly to myself, hiccuping as I walk. “Left… or right?” I mutter, swaying a little.
I keep going up, searching for the exit, but instead of finding the staff lounge, I end up in the royal wing. The carpet is thicker here, the air quieter, like even the walls are holding secrets.
My head throbs, and I reach for the nearest door handle, mumbling, “Maybe I can rest here… just for a minute.”
The door creaks open, and I slip inside, closing it behind me with a soft thud.
The room smells different, expensive cologne, whiskey, and something darker.
Music plays low, deep and slow, like a heartbeat.
Then I see him.
A man sitting in a half-open shirt, broad shoulders glinting under the golden light. A glass of liquor in his hand. He’s too handsome, too intense, like trouble wrapped in royalty.
His eyes lift from his drink, finding me instantly. They’re sharp, dark, and curious.
He tilts his head slightly, voice low and smooth.
“Who let you in?”
- Writer
