The Heartbroken - S01 E03

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The Heartbroken - S01 E03

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 3

Continuation

“What is it?” I pushed

past the lump in my

throat and tried to

push

the queasy feeling in

my stomach away.

“Kyla.” He ran his

fingers

through his hair and

looked into my eyes

before averting his

gaze

and taking a deep

breath. “I think we

should break up.”

I blinked, shaking my

head. “What?”

The guitar felt heavier,

the wind seemed

colder, I suddenly felt

so bare and exposed–

vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he said,

looking down, his voice

strained.

“Break up?” I asked

him, fumbling for the

right words to say.

“You’re joking, right?

Right?”

He shook his head, ever

so slightly. I felt as if all

the air was knocked

out

of me, like somebody

had just punched me in

the gut. I was shaking

my head, trying to

make sense of

whatever was

happening.

“What are you talking

about? What–what’s

wrong?” I searched his

face for any clue, but

all

I could see were his

brown eyes, apologetic

and pained. “Why?”

He just shook his head,

looking down. “I’m

sorry.”

“We can–we can talk

this out,” I tried again,

reaching for him, but he

took a step back and

pursed his lips together

in a pained grimace.

I felt like he had just

slapped me. I opened

my mouth to say

something, but closed

it

when I realized I

couldn’t. It was hard to

summon my voice,

impossible to find any

words.

I looked at him one last

time, waiting for the

punch line, waiting for

him to take back what

he just said, waiting

fot

anything. His eyes held

mine for the longest

time and it almost

seemed like he was

going to reach for me.

But he just dropped his

gaze and repeated the

words “I’m sorry.”

My eyes started to

water. I shook my

head, taking quick,

shallow breaths as I

waited for something

more, but nothing

came.

I took a step back,

feeling as if somebody

had just ripped my

heart out.

And the worst part

was that it was Cedric

who did it.

I took another step

back and before the

tears could fall, I

turned

around and started to

walk away, fighting

the

urge to run, hoping he

would call me, ask me

to stop and turn

around.

Hoping he’d catch up to

me and stop me from

leaving.

I will not cry. I fought

the tears from falling. I

will not cry.

When I walked by the

juice bar, some guys

who were hanging out

there had whistled. I

turned to them. One of

them smiled while the

rest stared. At me. I

was being hit on. Again.

When I looked back,

Cedric was still there.

What nerve, I thought.

Showing up two hours

late without

explanation and

breaking up with me.

What freaking nerve. I

wiped the unshed

tears

from my eyes, careful

not to ruin my makeup.

I knew Cedric was still

watching me. I knew

he

was looking. That was

probably why I stepped

towards the juice bar

and approached the

guy

who was smiling at

me.

“Enjoying the view?” I

asked him.

He looked me up and

down before looking

back into my eyes.

“Very much so.”

I looked at Cedric again,

and I could see how

surprised he was. I

could see it, his eyes

wide, his mouth agape.

Was he hurting? Was

he

starting to regret his

decision? Did he even

care? I looked back at

the the stranger in

front of me.

“I’d take that as a

compliment,” I told him.