𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 ✓

36.

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In moments like these, I can't truly believe those self-help-quotes people always boast over during hard times. Everything happens for a reason. Really. There was no reason for my husband to cheat on me. It's always the happiest ones with the least issues that shove those quotes down suffering people's throats. It's easy to shut them up when you give them false hope.

I'd end up across the warm, moonlit streets of Manhattan, New York. Glistening billboards and bright advertisements illuminate the bustling streets. I can hear music bubbling through the atmosphere, the nightlife being entertained through the streets as I push through the crowds. 

Torn, stained wedding dress, torn veil, hair in a complete mess, makeup smeared and stained across my face. I'd have many curious and confused passerby's watching as I shove through the crowds across the streets. I'm sure I look like a mad woman. Seeing a bride which looks like she's been through the trenches running through the streets of New York isn't an everyday occurrence. 

I don't have anywhere to go. 

Thats my biggest problem.

I'd end up slumping in a street bench by myself, face tightly pressed into the palms of my hands as I sob painfully. It's the most humiliating, disgusting feeling in the world. I have nothing to do, nowhere to go, the sense of hopelessness that pulses through me is nothing like anything I've ever felt. 

The tears continue to stream and puddle in the palms of my hands, running down my wrists and dripping onto my destroyed gown. This was meant to be my day. The only thing I can feel is hate, hate for myself and for trusting Ryle and Leila. 

Was I really that stupid to not see it? how did Stanislav know? it's all a mixed concoction of questions that pound against my skull with restlessness. Everything is ruined. I can't handle thinking about them, seeing their faces or even questioning if Ryle would explain himself or not. I don't need either of their words, they betrayed me on my day. My day of all days. 

All that I can think of is that Leila is a wretched bitch. Thats it. It repeats in my mind over and over. I let her make me think she was that close to me. That she wouldn't hurt me. Looking back, she would. She didn't give a shit about me. Neither did Ryle, he's just as horrible as her. 

My sobs and wails painfully continue, muffled in the palms of my hands. The amount of painful, burning emotion pulsing through me is something I'd never wish on a single soul. 

Except, I'm the one that has to experience it. I doubt Leila or Ryle feel a single drop of remorse or regret, they are probably living it up against my depression. They'd be the type to shove those stupid self-help-quotes down my throat. 

My vision is blackened in the palms of my hands, only the senses of smell and hearing are clear for me. As I cry, I can hear an approaching figure, the shift of the street bench I'm sitting on, and the powerful scent of Stanislav. I know that scent anywhere. It's too recognizable to not know. I can also smell the scent of a cigarette burning, and the wind blowing its scent against me. 

"You are a smart woman, I'm glad you listened to me."

His voice is smooth yet in no way threatening, as if he's just stating the facts. My jaw tightens and I shake my head, crying and sobbing with excruciating heartbreak in my shaking voice. 

"I didn't want to see what I saw," I mumble through broken, choking cries. Another wave of the same cigarette smell washes against me, and he hums for a moment. 

"I don't think anybody would, nurse. But would you rather not know the truth?" He questions shortly, and I take a moment through crying thought before I speak. "I don't know, I don't know at all, I just don't want to feel this way," I sob and choke through tears, sniffling roughly.

"What do you feel?" He questions, letting out a short sigh. 

"I don't know, I can't think... I feel like I was never good enough, like maybe if I was more pleasing or something, he'd-"

"No, Y/N. When I saw that man, I knew he was a certain type of man. A type of man that you could seemingly trust with your entire soul, but at the end of the day, is the type of man to only want more and more. No matter what you do."

He cut's, and his word's oddly give me some sort of relief through my painful heartbreak. "That does not mean you should try to be more than what you are, you were with the wrong type of man, is all. He did not fit you the way others could. And that's not your fault."

He assures bluntly and flatly, and I lift my crying face from the palms of my hands, turning my head to face the direction of his voice. His body is leaned over, leg's parted with his elbows resting against his knee's cigarette in between his fingers. 

He turns to face me also, blinking slowly, softened yet still blunt expression. "I don't know what to do," I sob, jaw tightened, and teeth gritted as I talk. I try to contain and compose myself, but awfully fail. He tilts his head to face me a little more, slowly lifting his cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. 

I watch as the smoke leaves his nostrils after a long few seconds, staring deeply into my heartbroken gaze. "Are you going to go back to that man?" He questions after breaking his intense stare, blinking and flicking the ash from the end of the cigarette. 

I shake my head, letting out a shaken sigh. He leans his hand towards me, offering me the cigarette. I shake my head and decline, and he lifts it back to his lips once more. "So, what do you plan on doing now?" He questions, his eyes flickering from me, down to my torn, blood-stained dress. His eye's move across every blood dot, circling back to my eyes. 

"I have nowhere to go."

He cocks his eyebrow, taking another long drag before exhaling. "What do you mean?" He questions. "I have nowhere to go. The apartment was under his name, and I can't go back there. He'll be there, and I hurt him." I explain, and his eye's flicker to the dotted blood stains across my skirt. 

"I can see that," He laughs shortly, turning away from me and dropping his finished cigarette in the bin next to us. I try to wipe and contain my tears, smearing my makeup even more. I feel pathetic and useless, this is all too much. 

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" 

"No."

His eye's lift back to my gaze, and a faint, sly smile lifts his lips. "Is this your way of asking me for help?" He questions, and my face immediately begins to burn up in embarrassment. I quickly deny it, but at the end of the day, I don't have a choice."N-No... it's not like that," I assure, yet he's clearly unconvinced. It's impossible to lie to a man like him. 

"Don't speak to me like I'm stupid, nurse. Because whether you would've liked it or not, you would've ended up here, with me at the end of the day. I told you, nurse. I will always be there, one way or another."

He snickers, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. "I know, I know, trust me..." I mumble, the waves of year long memories pounding back into my skull. Memories of how Stanislav's figure would haunt me, his face, his voice, for years and years. 

He truly never left. 

I sigh, swallowing deeply. My voice is still croaky and choked, but much more understandable than before. "I'm not going to ask again, do you want my help, or not." He asks with sterner serious than before, and it leaves me thinking. 

I could either most likely be homeless or move back in with my mother, which are both different kinds of hell in themselves. Or I could take Stanislav's help, and see how far that leads me. 

I lower my head a little, nodding very shortly. "Good, that's what I thought." He nods. 

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