TREAT ME RIGHT

James had thought leaving her would be the hardest part.

For weeks, he had prepared himself. He rehearsed the words during sleepless nights, whispering them into the darkness as if practice would make them hurt less. He imagined her face falling, the confusion in her eyes, the tears that would follow. Walking away felt like it would tear him apart.

He had been wrong.

Because leaving her was nothing compared to this.

She had cheated on him.

With Clinton.

His best friend.

The words replayed in his mind like a cruel echo. Not just a betrayal. Not just a mistake. It was a deliberate choice - made behind his back, beneath his trust, inside the safety of everything he thought was sacred.

His world didn't crack.

It collapsed.

James sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white. The screen glowed in the dim room, illuminating messages he wished he had never seen. Proof. Cold. Clear. Undeniable.

Every word on that screen felt like a blade carving through him.

"How could she...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "How could they?"

Anger surged first. Hot. Violent. It tightened his chest until breathing felt like inhaling broken glass. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Then came the pain.

Quieter.

Deeper.

More dangerous.

It spread slowly through him, hollowing him out from the inside, leaving nothing but emptiness where love had once lived.

Clinton.

Of all people.

James closed his eyes, but it didn't help. The memories attacked anyway - late-night conversations, shared dreams, inside jokes. He remembered defending Clinton in arguments, backing him when others doubted him. He remembered introducing him to her.

He had brought the snake into his own garden.

A sharp ache pierced his chest, and he gasped, pressing a trembling hand against his heart. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. His hands shook. His vision blurred.

Every heartbeat seemed to chant the same word: Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed.

He thought he knew people.

He thought loyalty meant something.

In one night, everything shifted beneath him, and he was left grasping at air.

He remembered the way she used to smile when he came home. The way her eyes lit up like he was the only person in the world. The way she whispered "I love you" with such certainty that he had believed it was unbreakable.

Now those memories felt poisoned.

Each one twisted, sharp and mocking.

James leaned back slowly, letting his body fall against the mattress. The sheets felt cold beneath him, unfamiliar - like the room itself no longer belonged to him. Nausea churned in his stomach.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to punch something until his knuckles bled.

But he did none of it.

Instead, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling as though the universe had shifted and forgotten to inform him.

"Why didn't I see it?" he muttered into the empty