TREAT ME RIGHT

James had thought leaving her would be the hardest part.

For weeks, he had prepared himself. He rehearsed the words during sleepless nights, whispering them into the darkness as if practice would make them hurt less. He imagined her face falling, the confusion in her eyes, the tears that would follow. Walking away felt like it would tear him apart.

He had been wrong.

Because leaving her was nothing compared to this.

She had cheated on him.

With Clinton.

His best friend.

The words replayed in his mind like a cruel echo. Not just a betrayal. Not just a mistake. It was a deliberate choice - made behind his back, beneath his trust, inside the safety of everything he thought was sacred.

His world didn't crack.

It collapsed.

James sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white. The screen glowed in the dim room, illuminating messages he wished he had never seen. Proof. Cold. Clear. Undeniable.

Every word on that screen felt like a blade carving through him.

"How could she...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "How could they?"

Anger surged first. Hot. Violent. It tightened his chest until breathing felt like inhaling broken glass. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Then came the pain.

Quieter.

Deeper.

More dangerous.

It spread slowly through him, hollowing him out from the inside, leaving nothing but emptiness where love had once lived.

Clinton.

Of all people.

James closed his eyes, but it didn't help. The memories attacked anyway - late-night conversations, shared dreams, inside jokes. He remembered defending Clinton in arguments, backing him when others doubted him. He remembered introducing him to her.

He had brought the snake into his own garden.

A sharp ache pierced his chest, and he gasped, pressing a trembling hand against his heart. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. His hands shook. His vision blurred.

Every heartbeat seemed to chant the same word: Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed.

He thought he knew people.

He thought loyalty meant something.

In one night, everything shifted beneath him, and he was left grasping at air.

He remembered the way she used to smile when he came home. The way her eyes lit up like he was the only person in the world. The way she whispered "I love you" with such certainty that he had believed it was unbreakable.

Now those memories felt poisoned.

Each one twisted, sharp and mocking.

James leaned back slowly, letting his body fall against the mattress. The sheets felt cold beneath him, unfamiliar - like the room itself no longer belonged to him. Nausea churned in his stomach.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

He wanted to punch something until his knuckles bled.

But he did none of it.

Instead, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling as though the universe had shifted and forgotten to inform him.

"Why didn't I see it?" he muttered into the empty room. "Was I really that blind?"

The phone vibrated in his hand.

He flinched as if it had burned him.

Another message.

His stomach dropped instantly. Was it more proof? More humiliation? Another reminder that while he was drowning, they were laughing somewhere?

He stared at the screen, frozen between fear and curiosity. Part of him wanted to throw the phone across the room, to smash it and pretend ignorance was still possible.

But he couldn't.

Slowly, he tapped the screen.

The message wasn't from her.

It wasn't from Clinton.

It was from someone else.

Someone who had known.

The room suddenly felt smaller. The walls seemed closer. The air heavier.

He wasn't just betrayed.

People had watched it happen.

A knock sounded at his door earlier that evening - he barely remembered opening it. Ben had walked in without needing to be invited. One look at James's face had told him everything.

Now Ben sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees, steady and silent.

An anchor in the middle of a storm.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It was thick. Heavy. Necessary.

Sometimes pain doesn't need commentary.

Finally, Ben exhaled slowly.

"James... she's not worth it."

James let out a hollow laugh. It didn't even sound like his own voice.

"Not worth it?" he repeated bitterly. "I was planning my future with her."

His throat tightened, but he forced the words out.

"I thought she was it. I thought we were real."

Ben's gaze didn't waver. "You were real. That's the difference."

The statement hit harder than expected.

James looked away.

"Life's too short to waste on people who don't value you," Ben continued quietly. "This doesn't define you. Their choices don't erase who you are."

James wanted to believe that.

God, he wanted to.

But belief felt like a language he no longer understood.

He replayed every moment in his mind, searching for signs he had missed. Was there a hesitation in her voice? A secret smile? A message deleted too quickly?

Had Clinton ever looked at her differently?

The apartment was silent except for the ticking clock on the wall. Each second felt louder than the last.

Betrayal doesn't explode and disappear.

It lingers.

It burrows.

It settles into the quiet spaces of your heart and builds a home there.

James ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily.

"I don't know who to trust anymore," he admitted.

Ben's voice softened. "Trust yourself first."

The words hung between them.

Trust himself.

He had ignored instincts before. Hadn't he? There were moments when something felt slightly off, but he had brushed it aside, choosing love over doubt.

Love over caution.

And this was the result.

But beneath the devastation, beneath the humiliation and anger, something else flickered.

Not hope.

Not yet.

Strength.

Small. Weak. But present.

He was still here.

Still breathing.

Still standing.

They had broken his trust - not his existence.

James sat up slowly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. His reflection stared back at him in the dark screen of his phone. He looked tired. Older somehow.

But he was not destroyed.

Not completely.

"I won't let this ruin me," he said quietly, more to himself than to Ben.

Ben nodded once. "That's the spirit."

James inhaled deeply, steadying himself.

He didn't know what healing would look like. He didn't know how long it would take before the memories stopped cutting. He didn't know if he would ever love that fearlessly again.

But he knew one thing.

He deserved better.

His phone buzzed again.

This time, the sound didn't just startle him - it sent a chill down his spine.

He glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

His pulse quickened.

Ben noticed the shift immediately. "Who is it?"

James swallowed hard.

"I don't know."

The message preview appeared:

If you think that's the whole story... you're wrong.

The air in the room changed.

James's heart began to pound, not just with pain - but with something else.

Fear.

Or was it anticipation?

His thumb hovered over the screen.

Because suddenly, this wasn't just about cheating.

It wasn't just about betrayal.

It was about something bigger.

Something hidden.

And as James opened the message, he realized the worst night of his life might only be the beginning.