BROKEN VOWS

Chapter Thirteen. This changes things.

Rainbow's POV.

One month had passed, and I found myself once again engaged in a thought-provoking conversation with Hunter.

"Think of it this way," Hunter said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "If you took a bite of the most divine cake you'd ever tasted, would you continue to savor it even if a few people told you it was disgusting and they didn't like it?"

I responded without hesitation, my enthusiasm evident. "Yes!"

Hunter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

I furrowed my brow, unsure where he was heading with this analogy. "Because... um... we have different taste buds, and what I taste in the cake might be different from what they tasted?" My voice trailed off, turning my statement into a question.

Hunter's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense. "Exactly! Think of it that way. You and him, you're like two people tasting the same cake, but experiencing different flavors. You're still infatuated with the idea of what you had, and it's hard for you to accept that it's over." He paused, his expression serious. "That's what I call... toxic."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his choice of words. "Toxic?" I repeated my tone of questioning.

Hunter nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face. "Yup!" he said, popping the 'p' with emphasis as if that single word was all the explanation I needed. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics, surprised by how seriously he was taking on this fake-therapist role.

I decided to test Hunter's patience, knowing that he tended to beat around the bush. "Define toxic," I said, my tone playful yet provocative.

Hunter let out a deep sigh, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. For a moment, he looked like a seasoned psychologist dealing with a particularly challenging client.

Then, in a calm, measured tone, he began to explain. "Toxic is when someone has hurt you so profoundly that you're exhausted by the pain, yet you still cling to the relationship, hoping against hope that things will revert to the way they once were. You're willing to continue suffering, to keep getting hurt, all in the vain hope that this person will change, that they'll magically transform into the partner you need them to be." His words hung in the air, a poignant description of a painful dynamic.

Hunter's eyes seemed to bore into my soul as he concluded his explanation. "And you start thinking bad things about yourself, losing your self-worth in the process. That's what I call toxic." His gaze lingered as if daring me to dispute his words or pretend I didn't understand.

I wasn't entirely shocked by his blunt assessment. His words echoed thoughts I'd had before, but had chosen to sugarcoat with self-consoling phrases like "the devil I know is better than the angel I don't know." Yet, hearing Hunter say it out loud, without pretenses or sympathy, was like a splash of cold water – refreshing, yet unsettling.

What was the point of having a fake therapist if not to knock some sense into me? Hunter's bluntness was exactly what I needed – a stark reminder that sometimes, the hardest truths are the ones we need to hear the most.

Two weeks ago, I agreed to this unconventional therapy arrangement with Hunter, never expecting it would have such a profound impact on me. Our fake therapy sessions have been surprisingly enlightening, helping me shift my perspective and challenge my thoughts.

It all started on a typical hangout day, lounging around and discussing everything and nothing. Then, out of the blue, Hunter dropped a bombshell: he revealed the story behind the mysterious locked room in his house. I'd been pestering him for weeks, curiosity getting the better of me. Who wouldn't be intrigued by a locked door, after all? Don't even think about judging me – my curiosity was justified!