Broken kingdom

I feel the color drain from my face with every word I read. By the time I’m done, my stomach is coiled so tight it physically hurts. 

As someone wise once said—if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. 

However, in my case, I didn’t win anything. 

I lost everything.

“Don’t tell anyone anything,” I call out as I run out the bathroom door. 

I quickly scan the bar, but there’s no sign of Oakley. 

Swallowing my pride, I walk up to the woman he wasn’t flirting with before. 

“Do you know where Oakley is?” 

“You just missed him, sweetheart. He said he wasn’t feeling well and took off a few minutes ago.” 

Shit. 

I sprint out the door. Dread twists my guts when I don’t see his car in the parking lot. 

A powerless feeling rises up my throat as I fish my phone out of my purse and bring it to my ear. 

It goes straight to voicemail. 

“No, no, no,” I mutter as I dial his number a second time. 

He’s like grains of sand slipping through my fingers. And I have no one to blame but myself because I let my jealousy get the best of me and ruin what we had. 

My heart does a painful flip when it goes straight to voicemail again. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the receiver.

So fucking sorry.