Crossroads
Rachel sat on the sofa, her eyes red-rimmed, her hair disheveled, her fingertips clutching the torn fabric at her chest, and she stared vacantly.
Kingsly faced away from her, buttoning his shirt.
Rachel kept her head down until she saw him fully dressed, then her clouded eyes slowly lifted.
Kingsly picked up his suit jacket and left the apartment without so much as a backward glance.
His retreating figure was cold and indifferent, like a benefactor who came and went at will.
She watched him disappear, her eyes burning too much to cry.
Hugging her knees on the sofa, she buried her head deeply into them.
She had thought she had fortified her heart enough, yet he dismantled it so quickly.
Her eyes ached, but not a single tear fell.
What did he see her as?
A mere plaything?
Not even...