sex, love or friendship

All at once

Maya had started spending her nights at my place again. She often arrived late, her shoulders slumped under the weight of a sadness she poorly concealed. Her smile had become a facade she hid behind, and she spoke only vaguely about what had happened between her and David. All I knew was that they had been a couple, and then out of nowhere, he started treating her like she was just a casual fling. Without hesitation, she broke up with him, but I could tell the breakup had left her more shattered than she wanted to admit.

I often found myself wondering how their story had begun, how what seemed like a normal relationship could have turned into such a nightmare. I was intrigued by David's behavior, wondering what kind of person he really was. I had always found him charming, but what I truly detested was the way he treated girls—as objects to be used at his convenience and then discarded without a second thought. And it was Maya, the same strong, independent Maya I had always known, who was paying the price.

As she did every morning, Maya was lying on my bed, her back against the wall, with her laptop resting on her knees. Her fingers tapped idly on the keyboard, but her mind seemed elsewhere, trapped in a sea of troubling thoughts.

"Do you need anything? I'm going to do some shopping," I asked, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

"No, I don't need anything," she finally replied in a hoarse voice.

"Alright, I'll be off then," I said as I left the room.

**********

The supermarket was packed, as usual, a chaos of squeaky carts and impatient customers. The aisles were teeming with people, to the point where it was almost impossible to navigate without bumping into someone. Yet, by some stroke of luck or maybe sheer persistence, I managed to weave my way to the end of the line, right in front of the cash registers. It was a small triumph, insignificant perhaps, but all I wanted was to pay for my groceries and escape this noisy hell to return to the quiet of my apartment.

I paid little attention to the faces around me, the murmurs of conversations, or the regular beeping of the product scanners. My only concern was to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Do you need a plastic bag for your items?" the cashier asked, her monotonous voice betraying the fatigue of a long day at work.

"No, not really, I have a bag with me," I replied, rummaging through my handbag, searching for my wallet.

I was frantically searching, my fingers touching everything except what I desperately sought. Time seemed to stretch, and with it, the impatience of the customers behind me. I could feel their stares burning into the back of my neck, their annoyance growing with every passing second. The line was getting longer, and some people were already muttering complaints under their breath.

Where was that damn wallet? I wondered if I had left it on the kitchen counter or if it had slipped out on my way here. With a rising sense of dread, I began to realize that I simply hadn't brought it with me.

Panic started to set in, nearly taking my breath away. What was I supposed to do now? I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, the humiliation of standing there, facing a cashier who was looking at me with barely concealed irritation, all my items already scanned with no way to pay for them.

"Um... Unfortunately, I didn't bring my wallet with me," I finally admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. I could almost feel the air thickening with tension, the cashier letting out a heavy sigh, her gaze hardening.

I cursed myself inwardly, thinking fast, trying to come up with a way out of this mess. But the options were limited, and I felt increasingly cornered.

That's when a calm yet assured male voice spoke up behind me.