Love’s Bitter Pill

When I was struck by a stomach illness, my boyfriend, Charles Fischer, was busy blowing out birthday candles with his assistant, Beverly Wagner.

I lay there in excruciating pain, but he didn't even glance at me. Instead, he affectionately stroked her nose. 

“Bev is a year older! Make a wish, birthday girl!”

Later, after I had fainted and was rushed to the hospital, I called Charles, only for him to ignore me. 

Meanwhile, Beverly posted a photo on Instagram. Gifts filled the screen, with the caption, [Yay! Charles is the best ever! Charles and Bev, together forever!]

When I confronted him, Charles didn’t care at all. "It's Bev’s birthday. Were you expecting me not to spend it with her? If you can't handle it, we're done!"

This was the umpteenth time he'd threatened to break up with me, always confident that I wouldn't dare to leave him. 

Not this time.

When I was finally discharged from the hospital for my stomach issues, I took a cab home alone.

As usual, I pulled out my keys, but for some reason, the door wouldn’t unlock.

I heard faint noises coming from inside, so I pressed the doorbell.

Once.

Twice.

Three times…

It took forever, but eventually, the door opened.

Beverly Wagner poked her head out, sticking her tongue out as she apologized.

“Oh, Sarah! I’m so sorry! Last night, after my birthday party, it got really late. Charles insisted I stay over because he didn’t think it was safe for me to go home alone!

“You didn’t come home last night. Where were you?”

Before I could say anything, Charles Fischer gave Beverly a tender pat on the head.

“Bev’s so gorgeous. I couldn’t let her go home alone at night. It’d be too dangerous.”

Then he glanced at me. “Don’t mind her, Bev. She’s the one faking a stomachache and running off without a word. It’s a classic attention-seeking move. I’ve seen it all before.”

So that’s how he saw it.

Yesterday, Charles saw me doubled over in pain but thought it was all some petty ploy for his attention.

Beverly stood before me, her hair damp, wearing Charles’ oversized shirt, looking at me with a triumphant look.

Charles, on the other hand, was shirtless, his torso covered with faint red marks and scratches.

I kept my expression neutral and spoke calmly. “Charles, is that really what you think of me? That I’m someone so shameless?”

He scoffed, like I’d just told him the funniest joke in the world. “And what? You’re not feeling sick anymore? Convenient timing, isn’t it?

“You’re telling me it hurt so bad last night, but now you’re fine? Right when it’s Bev’s birthday? You just couldn’t stand her having a good time, huh?”

He looked at me up and down, as if he’d solved some great mystery.

“Whatever. We’ll drop it this time because Bev’s kind enough to let it go. Now go whip up a few dishes for us. She’s hungry.”

The old me would’ve