Bryan
[Damian, I love you but not that much where I would destroy myself over you]
Reading over the text out loud, I hit send not even seeing but knowing by habit what to press on my phone’s screen because I am almost blinded by my tears. My chest crushes repeatedly from the burning, glaring pain inside.
You see, it seems that my boyfriend is currently at a hotel with someone at 2 am. I know this because I am sitting near the reception desk, almost twenty feet from me, with the front clerk trying to convince me that I should return tomorrow, in the morning.
The short black-haired woman in her thirties is begging me with her eyes to not cause a scene as she gave out information about one of their guests, which is a no-no. Her pleads are the only thing stopping me from heading to the
