Page 72 of October
But this, what he did, this vague, shapeless betrayal, this emotional mess with no clear borders, it's like trying to fightsmoke. It just hangs there, everywhere I go, and I don't know what to do with it."
I shifted on the mat, stretching my legs out the same way August had, but it didn't help. The tension was in my stomach. My chest. My throat. I didn't even know where to start.
"You know what emotional cheating does to you?" I finally said, my voice quieter than I expected, my fingers picking at the loose threads on the edge of my gym leggings like I could unravel the whole thing—like I could undo what happened if I just pulled hard enough. "It makes you feel invisible. It's not like physical cheating, where you at least have something solid to hate, a face, a night, a choice you can point at and saythere.Emotional betrayal is worse. It's quieter. Softer. It comes dressed as kindness. It starts with harmless conversations, things so small you'd almost feel crazy mentioning them. A text here. A laugh you weren't part of. Little private jokes. And the worst part? It makes you doubt your own memory of things. Emotional cheating doesn't just break your heart—it makes you question if you ever really had it in the first place."
I felt my throat catch, the heat rising behind my eyes.
August blinked slowly, like she was biting her tongue, weighing something carefully. And then she shook her head. "No," she said. "Physical cheating hurts as much. If not worse."
I tilted my head, studying her. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Trust me, I know."
For a moment, we both sat with that, the quiet hum of gym machines in the background like a distant, meaningless soundtrack.
"It's like—" August started, stretching her legs out in front of her, twisting her ankle like she needed something to fidget with, "—"Physical cheating... it's your body being rejected," she said, quieter now, but each word landing like glass breaking. "Like you weren't enough, not your body, not your skin, not your scent, not your laughter, not the way you touched them or the way you looked at them like they were everything, and it's not just sex; it'syou. It'sallof you. Every part you gave, thinking it was safe, thinking itmattered.
Duringit—whileit was happening—you didn't exist. You weren't real to them in that moment. Not your voice, not your memories together, not your loyalty, not the way you forgave things you never even spoke about. Nothing. They took all of you and set it aside like it was nothing just so they could have that moment with someone else. When you realize that... that you were erased,actively forgotten,whileit was happening, that's the part that breaks you. Because suddenly, it's not just betrayal. It's like you were never there at all."
She inhaled sharply, her jaw flexing like she was chewing through the memory, "Theychosethat. They saw you. They saw everything you are and they said,'Not her.'Even for a night. Even for five minutes.Not her."
Her hand pressed flat against her shin, thumb digging into the bone like she could hold herself together with that pressure alone.
"That shit doesn't just break your heart. It breaks yoursense of self.It's humiliation. And it's not just public—it's private. You catch yourself in the mirror and start thinking,What part of me wasn't enough?Was it my stomach? My thighs? Am I boringnow? Old? Did I forget how to be interesting? Was I too busy, too tired, too... something?"
Her voice cracked, sharp, like glass snapping underfoot.
"You start apologizing to yourself for existing. You start seeing your own body as the thing that failed. It's likethey rejected your whole existence. You're standing there naked, thinkingthiswas supposed to be the thing they loved, the thing they touched and suddenly, it feels disgusting.Youfeel disgusting."
She rubbed her palm hard over her shin, grounding or punishing herself—I couldn't tell.
"And youknowit's not true. Youknowit's their weakness, their selfishness, their pathetic lack of character. But it doesn't matter. Your brain rewires itself anyway. It's like... a shame virus. You can't wash it off. You can't scrub it out."
She exhaled harshly, a shaky kind of laugh in her throat. " You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, and it still wouldn't save you. Because it was never aboutyou. It was about whatever empty, pathetic part of him wanted to be someone else's choice for a second."
Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper now.
"It's not even about wanting someone else," she said quietly. "It's aboutnotwanting you.Notchoosing you, and you don't forget that. No matter how many apologies they throw at you, no matter how many explanations, because deep down, you remember that when it mattered, they didn't pick you."
"Physical cheating isn't an accident. It's calculated, even if only for a moment. Youknowwhat it means. You know it's not just about bodies, it's about rejection. It's about telling the person who trusted you that their love wasn't enough to anchor you."
We sat there in the heavy silence of it, like two people standing at the edge of a battlefield, after the fighting's over, just staring at the smoke. Her voice was steady, but her jaw tightened at the end.
She let out a breath, sharp. "Both ruin you differently."
"Exactly."
We sat there like that for a while, each chewing on our own particular brand of heartbreak. I could almost see the shape of it, like two glass sculptures sitting between us, fragile, jagged, ugly, but impossible to ignore.
"And for what? Ego. They just want... attention. Ego boosts. Validation. Someone to make them feel special for five goddamn minutes. Men are so fragile it's embarrassing," I said.
"Embarrassing," she agreed. "Tragic, honestly. We're over here holding the entire weight of the world like some Greek statue, and they're falling apart over someone calling them handsome in the office kitchen."
We both laughed then, hard, tired, defiant.
"Honestly," I said between breaths, "what a choice. Emotional cheating or physical cheating. Like arguing whether you want to be stabbed or shot."
August snorted. "Right? Either way, you bleed."
The words hung there between us like something sharp, cutting into the quiet, and before I could stop myself, I reached for her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into me like I could hold the weight of it for her, even if just for a second.
