Love, Left Too Late

[Wanna do it?] I accidentally sent the message meant for my bestie to her brother, Gerald Cooper.

Ten minutes later, I received his reply. [In the Maybach downstairs. Come down.]

To my surprise, her brother was very well endowed too.

That night, things got heated and we almost lost control.

When we sobered up, he promised me that he would bear responsibility for his actions.

He treated me well and doted on me, giving me anything I asked for. However, there was only one rule: I must never admit in public that I was his girlfriend.

Five years later, he brought another woman home.

With his arm wrapped around the woman, he told me that she was his girlfriend.

I confronted him, asking, "If she's your girlfriend, then what would that make me? I waited five long years for you!"

He chuckled indifferently and said something that chilled me to my bone.

"Wait for me? Did I tell you to wait? Nyssa Bennett, don't ever fall in love with someone so desperately. It's terrifying."

So it turned out that my love for him was nothing but trouble.

From then on, I tried to live without him, let go of my feelings, and finally left him.

But one week later, when I was exchanging my vows with another man, Gerald was standing there in the aisle, looking up at me with reddened eyes.

Under the dull streetlight, Gerald Cooper was leaning against the car door, finishing his last cigarette.

He stomped it out and checked his phone for the tenth time in five minutes. Out of the ten times, nine were to reply to the nine voice notes from the same woman.

The last message he sent was to my best friend, who also happened to be his sister, Elena Cooper. It was to let her know he would send me home safely.

He put the phone down and turned to me with a smile. It was obvious that chatting with that other woman had put him in a good mood.

It was probably due to that that his voice was a lot more casual and relaxed when he spoke to me. "Nessa, you're a grown woman now. You get how adults handle separation cleanly, right?"

He ruffled my hair, the gesture so casual and intimate that it erased the seriousness of this breakup talk between us.

He had never taken me, Nyssa Bennett, seriously. Not even five years ago, when I got drunk and we slept together.

After I sobered up, he sat on the edge of the bed and smoked a full cigarette. Then, blowing a smoke ring, he asked in a flippant tone, "You like me?"

Terrified, I nodded. His response was just a simple chuckle. "Okay, then. Let's be together. Just don't tell Elle. She'd stab me if she found out."

He said it like it was nothing, and I stupidly believed him.

From then on, I became a kind of clingy accessory, always at his side.