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The Day My Love Shattered

The Day My Love Shattered

Author: Gavin
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Chapter 1 

Word Count: 1219    |    Released on: 12/12/2025

rt after my two-week solo trip. Instead, I was stranded alo

phone call revealed the truth: he w

of her on his lap, captioned: "Don't wo

eart. Car trouble. Had to drop Kandice off first

shattered something inside me. He had spent three years making me feel small, insec

ruelty, but standing there, soaked and be

voice steady. "About that five-year overse

pte

breath of a dying version of myself. I had just stepped off the plane, the cool Icelandic air still clinging to my clothes, a stark contrast to the humid mess that greeted me back

n my hand. It was a digital avalanche. Missed calls from Keith: 37. Voicemails: 12. Texts from him

ith' s contact. I almost

h, insistent vibration. This

s an immediate assault, sharp and laced with a familiar ir

air filling my lungs. "I just landed, K

f the grid' while Kandice was having a panic

My actions? What are

s, each one a sting. "The one with the waterfall

jestic waterfall. My caption had been something abo

ng flat in my mouth. "Why would a picture

on. "' Finally found a place where the air isn' t thick with toxicity.'

urd. I hadn' t even thought of Kandice when I

ely heard, one reserved for the 'innocent' and the 'fragile.' "Her heart co

eeded attention, especially from Keith. My fingers moved without conscious thought. I unlocked my phone

hree dots. The

king with it a small par

ice I apologize for any distress it caused. It wasn' t my

iliar and unsettling. Keith, usually s

cause if she is, I can draft a formal apology. Maybe send flowers. What kind of flower

ned his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed,

hesitant. "You' ve been gone for tw

bitter laugh caught in my throat. He wasn' t asking if I was okay. He wasn' t asking if

voice calm, almost serene. "As I told yo

th Kandice. Keeping an eye on her after that... inc

ike watching a play where I already knew all the lines. "And

with disbelief, a challenge. He expected tears

d something about emotions. They' re like currency. You spend them on

ign of deep connection. I used to think that love meant fighting, arguing, making up. I tho

was

teady. It was present. It wasn' t a performance, and it wasn' t currency to be squandered on someone w

hear the gears turning in his head, stru

ow, a reflex born of habit rather than genuine desire. The invitat

g over the bustling terminal, a world of possibilities sudde

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