❝We're meant to be end-game❞
THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY; THIS IS A TRAGEDY.
♡
Nora thinks she is living out her dream. So why does it feel like such a nightmare?
Nora loves Oliver. Oliver loves Nora. It's meant to be simple. But with Oliver's old h...
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By the time Oliver stumbled in, it was two in the morning. Nora couldn't get to sleep but, when she felt his sweaty arms snake around her, she quickly shut her eyes and pretended she was fast asleep. When his hands slowly trailed down her stomach and the side of her leg she bit her tongue and prayed he wouldn't try to wake her up for sex.
"Nor?" He slurred.
Nora felt suffocated by the stench of vodka coming from him. She carefully wiggled around to move his arms up. Finally, he seemed to get the hint and turned around, facing the opposite wall. A few minutes later Nora could hear light snores from him. She let out a breath of relief.
In the morning, Oliver got up early to go to the gym. It shocked Nora how he could even function with three hours of sleep. As he rattled and ruffled in their walk-in wardrobe, Nora remained frozen in their bed. She didn't want to confront him.
As soon as she heard the door downstairs slam shut, she trudged out of bed and to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she spotted the reflection of a girl who got no sleep. The bags under her eyes and the disorder of her hair were caused by Nora spending her entire night thinking instead of sleeping.
She had class in a few hours but there was no way Nora could go in. She could barely stand up straight. And her head was killing her. She searched her drawers for aspirin but came out dry. Oliver's jacket hung lazily over the chair. Maybe he had some painkillers.
She dug her hand into Oliver's jacket, the one he wore the night before. Her fingers fell on a plastic wrapper. She let out an 'ah-ha' before taking it out, thinking it was the painkiller she was looking for.
It wasn't.
Nora froze as she held the little plastic bag in front of her face. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was nearly empty but there was still enough white powder at the bottom to realise what it was.
"Morning, Nor. I forgot my phone and... what are you doing?"
Oliver stood eerily still by the door as his eyes landed on the bag in Nora's hand.
"W-what is this?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He remained stoic and slowly walked over to Nora. She flinched as he yanked the bag out of her hand.
"Why are you looking through my stuff?" He asked, in the same tone a father would use to scold his daughter.
"What were you fucking thinking Oliver?" She hissed, slowly regaining her courage. She stood up, refusing to let him tower over her and took a step closer to him.
"It's from the night of Ivan's party!"
"But it was in the jacket you wore yesterday."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh wow, Sherlock," He laughed, deflecting the conversation but it was too late because she already caught him in his lie.
