Aris woke up in the same clothes she wore the night before, stiff fabric clinging to her skin, creased and damp with sweat. The sour smell of it hit her, the faint tang of tears still clinging to her pillow. Her body ached, as though grief itself had seeped into her muscles, weighing her down. It wasn't just exhaustion—it was something deeper, something that hollowed her out from the inside.
Her eyes opened slowly, fixing on the ceiling, its blank expanse no different from the void she felt inside. The room was stifling, the walls pressing in as if they carried the weight of last night. Memories of Daren, his cold indifference, and those words—"You're embarrassing us both"— circled her mind like vultures over a carcass.
She hadn't slept, not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back there, standing on his doorstep, hearing the faint voice of another woman calling for him from inside. She saw his smirk, his apathy. And the door slamming in her face.
This morning was different, though. There were no tears left to cry, no violent sobs or gasps for air. This morning, she felt nothing. Just the numbness that settles in when a body finally gives up.
---
Aris dragged herself to the bathroom, her movements mechanical, her bare feet dragging against the cold tile. She turned on the faucet, splashing water onto her face.
When she looked up, her reflection greeted her in the mirror, and she hated what she saw.
Her long, coily hair hung limp, its usual vibrancy dulled. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, dark circles like bruises hollowing her face. She leaned closer, inspecting every flaw, every imperfection.
Her nose—too broad. Her cheeks—too round. Her skin—blemished and uneven.
The voice in her head was cruel, merciless.
Is this why he left?
Her breath fogged the glass as she whispered, "Maybe if I were prettier. Smaller. Better. Maybe he would've stayed."
Her throat tightened, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she fought the sting of more tears. The reflection didn't argue. It just stared back, as broken as she felt inside.
---
The day passed like a blur. She didn't eat, though her stomach ached from emptiness. She didn't move, though her body begged for relief from the stiffness that had set in.
Her phone sat beside her on the bed, lighting up periodically. A missed call from work. A text from a coworker asking if she was okay. Another reminding her of a shift she was supposed to cover.
She ignored them all.
The world beyond her bedroom door felt like a distant, foreign place. She couldn't imagine stepping out into it. She couldn't imagine anything.
And then her phone buzzed again.
This time, the name on the screen made her breath catch.
Daren.
Her hands trembled as she opened the message.
You really embarrassed yourself the other night.
The words were a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, as if that could keep the pain inside. Her vision blurred as tears burned in her eyes again, hot and relentless.
Embarrassed myself? she thought, her breathing shallow and erratic. Was it embarrassing to love you? To beg you to love me back?
Her hands shook violently as she stared at the screen, reading the message over and over, each word a fresh wound.
And then, something inside her snapped.
Her fingers moved of their own accord, swiping to his name in her contacts. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her heart pounding in her ears, and then—
BLOCK.
The silence that followed was deafening. She stared at the empty screen, her hands still trembling, her breath shaky and uneven.
She didn't feel relief. Not yet. But something shifted, a tiny spark of anger flickering beneath the crushing weight of her sadness.
---
She didn't remember walking back to her bed, but there she was again, lying atop the covers, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her mind replayed moments she couldn't escape. His laughter when she said something genuinely funny. The way he used to pull her close when the world outside felt too heavy. The warmth of his body against hers during those rare nights when love didn't feel so one-sided.
And then came the memories she couldn't outrun. His smirk on the doorstep. The mocking glint in his eyes. The door slamming shut.
Her lips moved soundlessly, whispering to herself the questions she'd been asking since the night he left. Why wasn't I enough? What did I do wrong?
Her eyes snapped open, and the ceiling blurred as fresh tears spilled silently down her temples, soaking into her hair.
Her voice broke as she whispered into the suffocating quiet of her room, "I thought losing Daren would kill me." Her chest tightened, and her words came out ragged, like they were tearing her apart from the inside. "But maybe I'm already dead. Maybe I've been dying for a long time."