A life unraveled

It was supposed to be a regular day-nothing dramatic, just me, Sandra, packing up to go home after a long semester. Eighteen and trying to balance college life, emotions, and everything in between. But that day? That day rewrote something inside me.

He'd been calling since dawn, waking me with his voice, asking when I'd finally come around. "Before you go home, na," he said. "It's been too long." And he wasn't wrong. It had been a while. Maybe too long. I missed him-at least, the version of him I thought I knew.

I got dressed, brushed off the stress, packed my last bag, and headed to his place. He smiled when he saw me, held me like I was all he needed. He even cooked for me-rice and stew, simple, but from him, it felt special. Or maybe I was just too willing to believe anything wrapped in affection.

After we ate, he said he had to step out quickly. I stayed back in his room, lounging, half-scrolling through my phone, half-dozing. His phone was lying next to me. I didn't plan to go through it. But curiosity has its own heartbeat, and sometimes, you just follow the rhythm.

I opened his gallery.

That's when my own pulse stuttered.

The video was there-no password, no attempt to hide it. Just sitting there in the open. Play. And there it was: him, with another girl. No faces turned away. No mystery. Raw, real, and recent. Too recent. It was dated that same day. The same damn day.

I felt my chest tighten. My throat dried up like cotton. I froze, replayed the clip, hoping my eyes had lied the first time. But no-they hadn't.

I didn't scream. I didn't call. I didn't even message him. I just sat there, hollow. The tears came on their own, quiet and hot. I wiped them before he came back.

When he returned, I didn't say a word. I smiled. I played along. We watched videos together, his arms around me like nothing had happened. Then I opened that video.

He paused. Froze.

"W–where did you see this?"

I looked at him.

He knew the answer.

He tried to deny it. "It's not what you think."

But lies die fast in the face of evidence.

Eventually, he broke. "It's my neighbor... she came in, she seduced me... I didn't plan it... I'm sorry, please don't judge me."

But I already had.

And somewhere deep inside me, something broke. Something honest and trusting.

---He stammered. Fumbled. Eyes wide, lips trembling with explanations that sounded more like insults to her intelligence. He begged. She listened. Or rather, she stared-through him, past him. Her mind was no longer in that room.

It went back to the morning. Just hours before.

They had talked. He had called early, voice thick with sleep but eager. "My neighbor came to borrow something," he said, chuckling. "She caught me on the phone with you, thought I was talking to my girlfriend-she got mad and stormed off."

They had laughed about it then. The drama, the absurdity. It sounded silly. Now it just felt sick. The same girl? The one who "got angry and left"? That was her?

Sandra sat there, body present but spirit unraveling. It was too much to piece together. How do you go from saying you love someone in the morning to lying with another person in the afternoon?

And then, the part that shattered her quietly-the part she hadn't told him. The part that was hers, sacred, secret.

He was her first.

She had trusted him, not just with her heart, but with her body. Something she'd never given to anyone else, even with past boyfriends. She'd waited. She thought waiting meant something. She thought he meant something.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry again. Not in front of him. Not for someone who could smile at her and betray her in the same breath. Still, she couldn't get up. Couldn't leave. Her legs wouldn't move. Her heart wouldn't listen to her mind.

She was eighteen, and already too deep.

She wanted to scream, to curse, to slap him, to hold him-all at once. But she did none of that.

She just sat there.

And he begged.

And her world spun in silence.

She looked into his eyes-red, tired, scared. And yet, somewhere beneath all the guilt and excuses, she still saw that boy she once loved. The same boy who used to walk her to class, send random messages just to make her smile, the one who made her feel safe enough to give herself, body and soul.

And that was what hurt the most.

Even in her pain, she loved him.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, blinked slowly, and whispered, "It's okay."

Joseph froze. "What?"

"I forgive you," she said, voice shaking. "Even though you've broken our trust... I still believe we can work things out."

His face lit up instantly, relief pouring over him like a wave. "Babe! Babe! Thank you! I swear-thank you! I'll make it right, I promise!"

He jumped up like a child, laughter slipping through his lips. But she didn't laugh with him. She lay there on his bed, quiet, watching him-like she was watching a stranger in the skin of someone she used to know.

She wondered what love really meant now. Was it trust? Was it sacrifice? Or was it the ability to stay even when everything in you wanted to run?

He turned, his joy still bubbling, and kissed her-softly, unsure if she would let him. She didn't pull away. But she didn't kiss him back, either.

Her heart was too tired.

"I just want to be alone for now," she whispered, barely meeting his eyes.

He paused, then nodded. For once, he didn't push. He understood.

He left her in the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Sandra rolled to her side, her back to the world, her mind to everything else. Thoughts came and went like waves, each one heavier than the last.

Eventually, sleep found her.

But peace... peace would take longer.