Then, my phone vibrated with a company chat notification. A new guy named Langston Shaw had sent a message. [My girlfriend wanted to take me to a movie today, but I wasn’t feeling great, so I stayed home. Maybe she threw the ticket away now.]
A few people responded, asking if he was okay.
He sent a couple of shy emojis. [All good. I messaged her and she came straight to my place. Didn't take long.]
The chat exploded, guys hyping him up, asking for his “secrets” to handling a girlfriend like that. Then, Langston sent a photo. A woman. Just her shoulders, wrapped in a bath towel. [Sorry, kinda busy today. I’ll share my tips another time.]
I didn’t need to see her face. I had seen this body for years—seven, maybe eight. I knew every inch of it, every mark, every scar. And yet, tonight, I had to watch it in someone else’s hands.
At the same time, Yvonne’s message popped up on my screen. [Sorry, the company needed me for something urgent. Go to bed early, okay? I love you so much. I'll apologize later.]
I stared at the words, my chest hollow.