"It's fine. It wasn't a real marriage." Azalea muttered under her breath stepping into the elevator. The small four-walled elevator started to look like a coffin, with air slowly receding. The piercing pain inside her chest killed her. The arrogance and pride she held her chin was lowered today.
The solace she was giving to herself sounded so absurd today. The moments she spent with them were all memorable, from the first time in the bar to the last meeting. Never did she think she would force kiss a stranger. She never saw her being married to a guy who had only been good to her, those thousand of azaleas that bloomed in his garden tucked the string.
The elevator door dinged, notifying her she had reached the ground floor. This is where her dreams come to an end.
