You stared at the magazine, the crimson letters screaming "Is Harry Cheating On Former Girlfriend Myriam With Taylor Swift?" The cover image – Harry kissing Taylor in a crowded club – felt like a physical blow. You hurled the magazine to the floor and sank against the living room wall, tears streaming down your face.
The front door swung open, and Harry’s voice boomed, “Myriam, I’m home!” He saw you, huddled and sobbing, and rushed to your side, reaching for a hug. You flinched away. His gaze landed on the discarded magazine, the photograph of his betrayal. He stared at it, a flicker of shame crossing his face before he returned his attention to you.
“Myriam, listen, it’s not what it looks like,” he sighed, his voice laced with desperation.
“What does it look like, Harry? It looks like you were making out with another woman! How is that *not* what it looks like?” you cried, the pain raw and guttural.
“She kissed me first, and—” he began, but you cut him off, your voice trembling.
“Did you kiss her back?” you demanded, your gaze fixed on his emerald eyes, searching for any flicker of honesty.
“Myriam, I was drunk, you don’t understand,” he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper.
“Being drunk is *not* an excuse to cheat on me!” The words ripped from your throat, fueled by fury and heartbreak. You bolted from the room, scrambling upstairs to your shared bedroom. With trembling hands, you began to pack a bag, stuffing clothes and essentials inside. When you were finished, you marched back down to the living room, determined to leave. But before you could reach the door, Harry slammed it shut, trapping you inside.
“Let me leave!” you screamed, pounding against the wood.
“No, Myriam! It was a mistake, please don’t leave. I love you,” he sobbed, his voice cracking with emotion. He looked as though he was on the verge of collapsing.
“Don't call me babe now. Let me leave, or this *will* get physical,” you spat, pushing against his chest, trying to shove him aside. You stumbled toward your car, fumbling with the door lock, your vision blurred by tears. Harry grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and pinning you against the car door, preventing your escape.
“Harry, please,” you begged, desperation clawing at your throat. “You have Taylor now. Everything is fine. You have someone who cares for you, and you'll be fine without me.”
“That’s the thing… there’s no one like you, Myriam. You’re the only one I want. I know I messed up, but maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive me,” he pleaded, his voice filled with a fragile hope.
You did love Harry. You truly did. But maybe a break was exactly what you needed. You started punching his chest, trying to get him to move, but he wouldn’t budge. You screamed “I Hate You!” over and over, until exhaustion washed over you, and your eyelids grew heavy.
When you woke up, you were lying on the couch, Harry’s face hovering inches from your own.
“Myriam, please. I am so sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.
“If you promise to never do this again, I will forgive you,” you said, a small smile playing on your lips. He nodded, his eyes shining with relief. You leaned in and kissed him, a tentative, hopeful kiss.
Harry kept his word. He never cheated again.