Heartbreak Pt 2

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HIM:
I was completely numb. All I could think about was her. All I could feel was her. The only motivation I had to continue breathing was her.
“Aiden?” There was a knock at my door to my bedroom. Giving my Mom a key to my condo had definitely been a huge mistake; but of course, I hadn’t planned on Adee taking my heart, which I’d willingly given to her, only to receive it back three and a half years later entirely demolished, leaving me sulking, emotionless, lifeless, in my bedroom.
I sighed, before giving a monotonous “Mother. I’ll call you later. Please leave.”
“But I brought you some soup…It’s from your favorite restaurant. And there’s some coffee on your counter and—” Her voice was highly worried and terrified. I almost felt bad for her. But just almost. She wasn’t the one desperately looking for the pieces of her shattered heart.
I rolled myself tighter in the massive amounts of blankets on my King size bed, before giving a muffled, grumbled, “Go away Mother. I’ll call you whenever. I just…I can’t talk right now.”
I heard her highly disheartened, completely broken hearted sigh resound from outside my bedroom door, before she gave up, her muffled sneakers getting quieter as they led her to the kitchen to drop off my food and coffee, then even quieter as she walked towards my condo door; locking the door behind her as she left.
I couldn’t even believe this. She was part of my five year plan, too—my Mom, that is. She and Adee’s family were so excited for this; in fact, her Dad had even cried when I’d asked for her hand in marriage, he was so happy. He cried. He was such an emotionless man; it was a miracle to even get a smile out of him. And he’d cried in happiness that Adee was going to get to have someone as amazing as me for a husband.
But we’d never suspected she would have broken up with me before I could complete all of our fairytale endings. I just wanted to complete our fairytale ending.
She’d ruined it all; for all of us. I’d had it all planned out. The jet? The restaurant? The limo at the airport? I’d had it…Everything was all planned out. I’d had our entire lives planned out. And she’d screwed it all up. Just because she didn’t love me like she used to—she loved me, but she wasn’t in love with me anymore.
I mean, okay, that sounds really selfish that I wanted her to continue being in our relationship even though she’d said she wasn’t in love with me anymore; but I mean, we were going to get MARRIED. We were…We were going to get engaged, plan everything together, and invite everyone in the entire world. And it was going to be the finest wedding in the entire world. The prettiest, the biggest, the most beautiful wedding in the entire world. We could’ve shocked everyone. We could’ve ruled the world together. And she broke it all up.
And she destroyed it all. Destroyed my life; completely crumbled my five year plan, stomped on my heart until there was nothing left of it. Until she had anything and everything that was left of it. I had nothing left to offer anyone else— she had all of the good pieces of me. She had every little positive aspect; every little negative aspect. She had at all; and she’d broken it into tiny little pieces just because she felt she deserved the best; because she’d fallen out of love with my heart. What made me me.
And I’d never have anything else to offer anyone else. Because she had everything—I’d given her everything and I didn’t want any of it back; I’d given her all of me. When I gave someone my mind, my heart, my soul, they had all of me; and I could never take any of it back—I couldn’t even if I wanted to. She could keep all of it.
Letting out a strangled cry, I untangled myself from my mass of blankets, throwing myself violently to the floor, crawling underneath my bed and pulled out the cardboard box, opening it and pulling out the even smaller cardboard box, and from that, the tiny little velvet bag; the Tiffany’s box from that. I took it in my hands, flipping it over and over and over and over, and the beautiful baby blue Tiffany box flashed me with its signature sign with each toss and turn underneath my hands. And then I drew my arm back. And threw it violently at the wall, letting out a love sick, exceedingly irate cry as it smashed against the wall, falling tiredly to the ground.
I hope she broke her own heart, too. I hope she never found another; was never happy with another. I hope I got married soon; to someone so much better; and I invited her, and she cried in the aisle when everyone had left after she’d seen what she could’ve had; what a wonderful life she could’ve had if she’d stayed with me. I hope she never got this wonderful, stunning, amazing, completely manipulative heart of hers back from me.
I hope she got at least the most I knew she deserved—I hope she got everything she ever wanted and so much more.
Sighing, I crawled to the ring, checking, then double-checking to make sure the ring was safe (it definitely was, as far as I was concerned), before carefully, painstakingly tying the white ribbon of the box; putting it back into its velvet box, into its cardboard box, then the bigger cardboard box, wrapping it in the sweatshirt she’d always borrowed; the sweatshirt she’d loved so much…And pushing it to the back of my dresser.

Full of the clothes she loved on me; the only clothing I’d worn consistently for the past three and a half years of my life. I wish we could reassemble our shattered hearts together. I wish I could be with the one who made me so much brighter; so much happier.
I wish I could be with the one who made me me. I wish I wouldn’t have to find someone else who would never measure up to to her to spend the rest of my life with. I would never find anyone better than her. I wish I could have been with her.





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