What A Beautiful Face She Has

Delusion

Mathew's POV:

I sat in the corner of my dimly lit living room, marijuana scattered all around me. I smoked some just a few minutes ago. The hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in the room. A huge mirror hung on the wall, reflecting my image. The man staring back at me looked hollow, a ghost of who I once was. My face was gaunt, my body softer. The athleticism I once took pride in was now a distant memory, worn down by months of misery.

On the table in front of me was a small, slightly tilted framed picture of Stella. She was smiling in it, beautiful, carefree, full of life. That smile haunted me. I couldn't bring myself to turn the picture away. It was all I had left of her, the last reminder of the woman who once loved me.

I whispered to the empty room, maybe to myself, maybe to her.

"She'll come back... she has to. She'll remember everything we shared."

Even as I said it, I knew how pathetic I sounded. My voice shook, as if I were trying to convince myself. But what else did I have? What else could I hold on to? After everything I had done, all the damage, all the pain, I clung to one hope: that someday, somehow, Stella would come back to me. Maybe she'd forgive me. Maybe she'd give me another chance.

I closed my eyes, and the memories hit me like a wave.

Now here I was, sitting alone, those special moments replaying in my head over and over again. My heart had never recovered. I don't think it ever would. Every day since she left has been a battle, fighting the guilt, the regret, the crushing loneliness.

I took another packet of marijuana, hoping the burn would numb the ache in my chest.

But it never did. It never worked.

"She'll come back," I muttered again, staring at the picture. "She'll come back. She can't just forget everything we had. She can't just walk away forever."

The words felt empty, but they were all I had left.

The TV was on in the background, a mindless distraction I left running to fill the silence. I wasn't really paying attention until I heard her name, Stella. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned toward the screen.

And there she was. Stella.

I froze. She was sitting on a couch in an interview, looking as beautiful as ever. She wore a black saree, her hair flowing in soft waves. Her eyes sparkled like they used to. I felt my throat tighten as I watched her.

And sitting next to her was Raghu.

I felt a stab of something dark in my chest, jealousy, anger. I didn't know. Raghu had always been there, always by her side, always supporting her. I had convinced myself that maybe they were something more. But now, as I watched the interview, I knew it wasn't like that.

The interviewer's voice broke through my thoughts.

Interviewer (on TV):
"Stella, Raghu, it's incredible what you two are doing with the organization, helping survivors of abuse, people struggling with depression... it's truly inspiring. Can you tell us more about the work you're doing?"

Stella smiled. God, that smile. I hadn't seen it in months.

"It's something we both believe in deeply. There are so many people out there who feel like they've been silenced, who think they don't have a voice. We want to give them that voice. We want to help them heal, to show them they're not alone.", said Stella.

I watched her, the passion in her eyes as she talked. She wasn't talking about us. She wasn't thinking about me. She was out there making a difference, helping people who really needed her. While I sat here alone, drowning in my own self-pity.