How to be loved

54 - Glimmer of hope

How to be loved

54 – Glimmer of hope

Becky's POV

"Are you..." My voice broke under the weight pressing on my chest, suffocating me with shallow, uneven breaths. Tears blurred my vision, threatening to spill, but I swallowed them down, refusing to break yet. "Damn it." The curse slipped out, trembling and desperate, as my legs buckled beneath me. I collapsed onto the cool, gritty sand, my knees sinking into the earth as my hands shook uncontrollably.

My fingers dug into the ground, searching for some stability, but it felt as if I was grasping at nothing. "Are you... breaking up with me, Freen?" The words tumbled out, fragile, wrapped in a fear so raw I barely recognized my own voice. I was terrified—not just of what she might say, but of the silence between us that seemed to hold all the answers I didn't want to hear. Terrified that this moment, this unraveling, was the end of us.

Freen stood there, her silhouette blending into the dimming horizon, her face etched with a sorrow that mirrored the storm inside me. For a fleeting second, hope flickered in the chaos. Maybe she'd say something—anything—that could pull us back from the edge, something that would make all of this go away. Maybe she'd reach for me, tell me it was all a mistake, that we weren't falling apart after all. But when her lips parted, the words that came were soft, broken, and laced with a finality that shattered every last hope.

"I'm sorry, Becky... I don't have the answer to that right now," she whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of it all.

Her apology hit me like a punch to the gut. It was worse than a scream, worse than anger—it was uncertainty. The kind that leaves you drowning, unsure if you'll ever surface again. The world tilted beneath me as she turned, her steps slow but resolute, each one taking her farther away.

My throat tightened, and I wanted to scream, to beg her not to leave, to run after her and hold her until this nightmare ended. But I was paralyzed, rooted to the sand, unable to do anything but watch her fade into the distance. With every step, it felt like she was taking pieces of me with her, leaving behind a hollow shell where my heart used to be.

Hours have passed since she walked away, but that moment replays in my mind like a cruel, unending loop. Every detail is seared into my memory—her fading silhouette, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the unbearable silence that followed.

Now, I lie here on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the hours slip by unnoticed. It's almost midnight, but time has lost its meaning. The ache in my chest hasn't dulled, hasn't loosened its grip. Bottles of liquor lay scattered on the floor around me, the remnants of a failed attempt to numb the pain. The alcohol courses through my veins, but it does nothing to quiet the chaos inside, nothing to offer the oblivion I so desperately crave.

All I have left is the ache—the unbearable, suffocating weight of her absence. And the sound of the ocean echoes in my mind, a distant, haunting reminder of the love that slipped through my fingers, like sand I was never meant to hold.

I was about to take another sip when a knock echoed from the door, breaking the silence that had settled around me. I glanced lazily at the sound, debating whether I should bother responding or just let whoever it was knock until they gave up. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the alcohol and the exhaustion of emotions I couldn't shake. But there was a flicker of hope in my chest, a quiet, desperate prayer that the person on the other side was her. Freen. Maybe she had come back, maybe this was the moment everything would be okay again.

With that sliver of hope, I dragged myself off the couch, wobbling slightly as I pushed through the haze of tipsiness. I found myself at the door, my heart pounding despite the alcohol dulling everything else. I took a deep breath and opened it.