Phelp

a home. He clutched his head, his body shaking with wracking sobs. Bilal knelt beside him, a hand on his back

wasted years, the unrequited love, the terrible, bitter truth that he hadn't cared until it was too late. I cried for the

I regretted clinging to his vague promises, his detached kindness, his occasional bursts of affe

on the phone. "Arthur, she was going to tell you

ust months ago, his hand gripping mine. "He puts that Ivy gi

eeds me." I had been so stupid, so arrogant in my love. I had argued with my parents, defending Arthur

pawn in his vengeful game. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated myself for loving Arthur so much that I couldn't see the truth. I hated myself fo

icked it up, pressing it to his lips, his body wracked with dry, agonizing sobs. But i

They had to break the news to my parents properly

e, my mother clutching a crumpled tissue, her eyes red-rimm

ket on the conference table. My mother gasped, a choked sob esc

, his voice thick with sympathy, "we foun

ing, his eyes moist. "Yes," he choked out, his voice hoarse. "It's Erykah's. Arthur gave it to her. For their anniv

e they had clung to, the desperate fantasy that I was simply pulling a "stunt," was shattered. My father slowly shoo

echoing the unbearable pain of a parent losing a child. It was a sound that would haunt Arthur