Echoes of Forgotten

Pito

Lisa's POV

I don't even know why I decided to check the camera. Maybe a part of me was hoping Jennie wouldn't bring Kai to our home—the only place that still feels sacred. But deep down, I knew. I knew the moment she said she had a "talk" with him. The lies have been too frequent, the late nights too predictable. Still, a part of me wanted to believe that she would respect this space, respect what we have... or had.

I scroll through the app, opening the footage from the nanny cam I secretly installed weeks ago. It feels like a betrayal in itself—spying on her—but I couldn't take it anymore. The constant wondering, the suspicions. I just needed to know the truth.

The screen loads, and I immediately see them. Kai's standing in our living room, his presence alone making my stomach twist. And then I hear it.

"OMG, I fucking hate her guts."

The words slice through me like a knife, cutting deeper than anything I could have imagined. My heart stumbles, and I can't breathe. I can't watch anymore. I quickly close the app, tossing my phone onto the bed like it's burning me. My hands shake as I collapse onto the mattress, tears already streaming down my face.

I knew about the affair. I've known for months. But this... this is different. I always told myself that as long as Jennie said she loved me, I would stay. That I could bear the lies, the cheating, the nights she spent with him, if it meant that at the end of the day, she would come back to me. Love me. But now, knowing she hates me—how do I stay when the one person I love most in this world resents me?

The sobs come hard, wracking my body. I bury my face into the pillow, clutching the fabric like it could somehow stop the pain from swallowing me whole. I've held it together for so long, pretending I didn't see, didn't know, didn't care. But now, all the strength I've built up shatters. Every suppressed tear, every ignored hurt, comes crashing down on me.

She hates me. Jennie hates me.

I've held onto this relationship with everything I have, even when it felt like it was slipping through my fingers. Even when the love between us felt like a distant memory. I convinced myself that if I loved her hard enough, long enough, she would come back to me. But I was wrong.

For months, I've watched her drift away. I've watched her lie to my face, telling me she was with friends when I knew exactly where she was—whose bed she was in. I even followed her, parking my car in the same lot, waiting for her to return from his apartment just to make sure she was safe. That's all I could do—wait and watch as my world crumbled, silently suffering because I didn't want to lose her.

But now, I can't unhear those words. I can't pretend anymore. I can't keep loving someone who hates me.

As I lay here, my tears soaking into the pillow, a realization sinks in: it's time to let her go. I have to. For my own sanity. For my own survival. Jennie may still say she loves me, but the truth is, she's been gone for a long time. And now, I have to accept that.

I wipe my face, trying to pull myself together, though my heart feels like it's breaking in a million pieces. I don't know how I'm going to face her, how I'm going to pretend that everything is okay when I return home. But one thing is clear—I can't stay in this anymore. Not when she feels this way about me.

I used to think I could handle anything, as long as she loved me. But now, knowing the truth... I can't do this. Not anymore. She deserves to be happy, and if it's not with me, then I need to let her go.

But why does letting go hurt so much?

As I close my eyes, exhausted from the tears and the heartache, I whisper into the empty room, "I'll always love you, Jennie. But this... this is the end."And with that, I feel a new kind of emptiness settle in. One that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to fill again.