The Cold Slap

The clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing through the empty house. The silence of the night was broken by the faint sound of a motorcycle approaching, its engine revving as it came closer.

Abigail's eyes flickered toward the window, and she could see the glow of headlights before the bike came to a stop outside. She sighed, feeling a mix of emotions surge within her chest.

Moments later, Samuel stumbled into the house, barely able to keep his balance. His face was flushed, his steps unsteady as he leaned against the doorframe, struggling to get inside.

He reeked of alcohol, his movements sluggish as he finally made his way to the living room. Abigail watched in silence from the doorway, her heart sinking at the sight of him like this—broken, lost, and beyond her reach.

Samuel dropped onto the couch without a care, still wearing his shoes, and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. He let out a chuckle, the sound bitter and hollow.

Samuel (slurring): "That's what I should do with my life... just stay here… in my own misery…"

Abigail stood in the doorway, her breath caught in her throat. He seemed so distant, so far away from the man she once knew.

Her mind raced back to the moments they shared before everything fell apart, before she pushed him away for good. She could feel the weight of his words—how they stung like daggers, twisting deeper into her chest.

As she walked toward him, she could hear him muttering to himself, his words incoherent at first. But then, something struck her heart like a cold slap.

Samuel (half-laughing, half-sobbing):"Oh Cassandra… I'm really a big fan of your butt. You really made me forget I'm married that night…"

His words cut through Abigail like a blade. Her body froze, her mind replaying the moment he mentioned Cassandra's name, a woman she had never heard of until now.

His voice, dripping with bitterness, sounded like the voice of a man who had been pushed too far, left alone to drink away his pain.

Her chest tightened, and for the first time in a long while, Abigail felt a wave of guilt rush over her. She had seen him drink, seen him drown in his sorrow, but hearing him speak like this—it shattered her in a way she hadn't expected. His words weren't just words; they were an indictment of her actions, her choices, her cruelty.

Abigail (quietly, her voice trembling): "Samuel…"

He didn't look up at her. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, lost in his thoughts, or perhaps lost in a haze of alcohol-induced fog. But Abigail didn't move. She stood there, taking in the weight of his words, feeling the sharp sting of the memory they evoked.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave. It was that night—the night when she was drunk, laying on the couch, pleading with Joshua to stay, begging him not to leave.

But here, the roles had reversed. It wasn't her begging for someone to stay. It was Samuel, drowning in his own sorrow, bitter and broken.

Abigail (softly, almost whispering to herself): "You're right, Samuel… You're right… I hurt you… I made you like this…"

The realization crashed over her—how much she had taken from him, how much she had caused him to lose. The man lying on the couch wasn't the confident, proud Samuel she had known. He was a broken version of the man he once was, a shell of his former self.

Abigail felt a tightness in her throat. She could no longer ignore the truth—she had torn him apart. She had let her own selfishness guide her, her own bitterness blinding her to the pain she was inflicting on him.

Abigail (tears in her eyes): "I never meant to do this to you, Samuel. I never wanted you to be like this..."

Samuel let out a deep breath, his words still slurred but laced with anger and pain.

Samuel (muttering): "You did this. You made me like this, Abigail. You got what you wanted... You broke me... and now you're here, trying to fix what's already been destroyed."

Abigail bit her lip, feeling the weight of his words, the accusation hanging in the air like a shadow.

She had wanted so badly to be in control, to have everything she desired, but now, in this moment, she saw the truth. Her need for control, her jealousy, her pride—it had all led to this.

Abigail (almost pleading): "Samuel, I—"

But he cut her off, his voice sharp and filled with anguish.

Samuel (looking at her with bitter eyes): "You don't get to say anything now. You don't get to fix this, Abigail. You've already done enough damage. I'm already too far gone for you to change anything."

His words were a slap to her heart. She stood there, unable to respond, her chest heavy with regret. She had wanted him to be happy, but now she saw the truth. She had been the one to destroy his happiness.

Abigail sank to her knees beside the couch, her tears falling freely as she looked at the man who had once been her everything. The man she had broken with her selfishness, with her cruelty.

Abigail (choking on her words): "I'm so sorry, Samuel… I never meant for any of this to happen..."

Samuel let out a bitter laugh, his eyes closing as he turned his head away from her.

Samuel (weakly): "It's too late for apologies now."

Abigail's heart shattered as she realized the depth of her mistakes, the pain she had caused him, and the irrevocable damage she had done. The man she once loved was gone, and in his place was someone who no longer had anything left to give.

As the tears fell from her eyes, she whispered to him, her voice broken with regret.

Abigail (whispering): "I was wrong… I was so wrong..."

But Samuel didn't respond. The distance between them seemed greater than ever. And as Abigail sat there, her heart heavy with the realization that she had lost him for good, she knew she couldn't undo the damage she had done.