The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Chapter 5: The last straw

Selena's POV
The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of betrayal, as stale and suffocating as the unspoken words hanging between Eric and me. His eyes, usually playful and warm, were now cold and accusing. The realization had hit me like a physical blow, the truth of his infidelity sinking its teeth into my soul.

"You're sleeping with her," I choked out, the words catching in my throat. "You knew. You knew she'd be there."

Vanessa. The woman who had oozed insincerity from the moment I met her, the one who had seemed to be watching me with an unsettling intensity. Her face, a mask of practiced charm, had blurred into a caricature of everything I despised. It had been subtle at first - a knowing smirk, a too-long lingering gaze. But as the week progressed, I'd felt a prickling awareness, a sense of violation that I couldn't explain. Then it had hit me – the shared laughter, the way their eyes danced when they spoke, the lingering touch on his arm.

But it wasn't his betrayal that truly burned. It was the knowledge that Vanessa, that manipulative serpent, had been playing both sides. The woman who had been so quick to claim her friendship with Camilla, my boss, had been sharing her bed with Eric. The thought made me want to vomit. Camilla, with her kind eyes and genuine smile, had been unknowingly caught in their web of deceit. I couldn't forgive the audacity of it all, the sheer disregard for Camilia's trust, and the painful truth that I'd been so blind.

"You're overreacting," Eric spat, his voice rough with the effort of keeping his anger in check. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw taut. "You're just jealous of her. You've always been jealous of her."

He stepped closer, his touch burning on my arm. His face contorted with fury, the anger in his eyes chilling me to the core. This wasn't the Eric I knew, the one with a playful glint in his eyes and a warm smile. This was a stranger, his voice laced with venomous accusations. An icy finger of fear pricked at my heart.

"You think I have feelings for Camilla?" I scoffed, my voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "This isn't about her, Eric. This is about you. This is about you disrespecting me, about you betraying everything we promised."

"It's not what you think," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "She's just a friend. You're the one who's acting irrational. You're the one who's making all of this up."

"Don't you dare tell me what I'm feeling!" I roared, my fury reaching a breaking point. "You think I'm stupid? I saw the way you look at her, the way you smile at her, the way you touch her."

A deep breath, a slow exhale, I forced myself to stay calm. This was a storm brewing, a storm that was threatening to consume me. I couldn't let it.

"This is over, Eric," I whispered, the words laced with steel. "It's over."

I turned my back on him, each step away from him a victory, each breath a testament to my strength. The air in the apartment, once thick with the scent of betrayal, now felt crisp and clean, the silence a balm to my wounded soul. I walked to our closet, my hands trembling as I pulled out the suitcases. I'd packed for a weekend trip, but now the luggage held a different kind of burden - the weight of broken promises and shattered dreams.

As I packed, I could feel his eyes burning into my back, his words a constant drone in my ears. But I refused to turn around. I couldn't afford to be swayed by his attempts at manipulation, his desperate pleas for forgiveness. This wasn't about forgiveness. This was about survival.