Soulmates & Twin Flames

21 - I Lost

Was it real?
Is it all in my head?
Am I delusional?

Probably.

And now, it's time to face the harsh reality.

I'm sitting by the dining table with my legs folded under my bum while my spoon hovers above a half-eaten bowl of cereal. The cute couple from the period drama is yelling at each other on the TV but I don't hear them as my eyes glide left and right on my phone, reading Roman's news.

'The business person of the year, Roman Rhode, is finally tying the knot with his partner and the elite's beloved Tiffany Carter.

"Optimus Maximus has always been a family business. Our loving union will solidify our steps as we spread our footprint around the world," Roman Rhode states. "The launch in the Middle East was a success last year. Asia followed smoothly. Our next step is expanding into Europe. Together, we are shaping history for a better future."

With Carters by his side, we are sure America's most popular men's health magazine will break the charts across the globe. The couple is planning to say yes this summer in Rhode Estate, Upstate New York.'

In the photo, Roman is wearing his signature constant frown next to his fiancé. He looks great in a tux. And Tiffany... Fuck, I wish her smile didn't glow like that. She loves him...which makes me a bigger asshole. The pearl-cut diamond ring on her finger must have cost Roman a fortune. She looks like a swan in her black ball gown. No wonder why Roman called me a nobody. Next to her, I look like trash.

But why a ball gown and a tux?

Then it hits me. The photo must have been taken at the night of the movie gala. Roman's words in his office echo in my head. 'Instead of meeting you, I went back upstairs and proposed to the wrong woman.'

I wipe a tear just before it reaches the tip of my nose.

He must have feelings for her, right? Would a man in his position marry solely for business?

I guess he would, if he is a heartless robot.

My broken soul is aching, floating above me like a thundercloud. How can Roman treat me so low? And what good would come from a business if it binds you to the wrong person and strips you off your humanity?

The Viscount on the TV cries and calls his lover the bane of his existence. I snap out of my haze, scoff, then turn it off. The royal dickhead doesn't know what he's talking about. Try staring blankly at your phone for a month and living in a constant brain fog, only to be slapped back to reality with a news clip, jackass!

God, when is this suffocation going to end? I can't keep torturing myself.

Okay... I'm going to take a shower, get dressed, and try enjoying the rest of summer before August is over. And I know exactly what would cheer me up.

Collecting a debt.

Olga picks up her phone at the first tone. "What's up, Abbs?"

"Ready for your payment?"

"Nope," she says and falls silent. I let out an evil laugh. "Ah, come on, Abby! I'll pay you two hundred. Don't make me stand butt-naked on Times Square."

I chuckle. "Fine. You pick the spot. But it has to be public."

"Two hundred fifty."

"It's not negotiable!" I cry, carrying my mug to my bedroom. "I wore those boots for thirty days. You'll only wear them for thirty minutes."

She huffs... Then she puffs. "Madison Square Park."

"What time?"

"In an hour?" she suggests.