Jack arrived at the small apartment he had been renting, his steps slow and his heart heavy. The events of the day had left him mentally and emotionally drained. As he walked toward the entrance, his eyes landed on Samantha standing just outside the door. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her weight shifted to one leg in the classic stance of someone ready for confrontation. Her eyes narrowed the moment she saw him, as if she had been waiting to unleash a storm of complaints.
Jack's once-lifted mood fell immediately. There was no comfort in seeing her. Instead of love or concern, there was judgment in her gaze, like he had already failed before saying a word. He greeted her softly, trying to keep things neutral. Her eyes flickered for a split second with surprise, perhaps shocked that he hadn't mentioned the restaurant or the man she had been with. But her shock quickly turned to amusement, and a smirk crept onto her face. She thought to herself, "Well, if he's not going to bring it up, then I won't either."
She responded to his greeting with a dull and uninterested tone, then followed him inside. The first thing she said before he could even sit down was, "Did you get the bag I asked for?" Jack sighed deeply. He rubbed the back of his neck and answered, "Well, I got fired today, so... yeah. I couldn't get it. But it's going to be okay because I—" He wanted to say, "I won the Lottery." Before he could finish his sentence, Samantha let out a mocking laugh. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she said, "I actually thought I might get something out of your useless, broke, worn-out ass. Guess my hopes were too high."
Jack blinked. Did she just insult him to his face? He stared at her, dumbfounded, as her tone shifted, and she laid herself bare in a way he had never seen before. The facade fell away, and her true colors emerged. Her voice was cold and devoid of empathy.
"But baby," Jack said, trying to keep calm, "What do you mean? You already got things out of me. My whole earnings, in fact. I gave you everything I had."
She rolled her eyes and scoffed like he had said something pathetic. "What have you ever done for me, really? Those meager little savings you wasted on takeout and gifts. That's nothing. I'm with Dean now. You already saw us, right? He's going to provide for me way more than you ever could. And now that you've lost your job? You've officially got nothing. I'm out of here."
She didn't flinch when she said it. She looked him straight in the eye, daring him to argue. Jack stood still, feeling like something inside of him was cracking open. His thoughts were a storm of anger, betrayal, confusion, and heartbreak. And then something shifted. A certain clarity washed over him. The illusions he had about their relationship faded away. It was as if a spell had been broken. The veil called love that had clouded his eyes was gone, and he could see Samantha for who she truly was.
He thought about all the sacrifices he had made. Leaving his father's house. Working long shifts. Burning himself out trying to make ends meet. Every effort he had made was for her and for love. For a dream that had now turned into a nightmare. The same girl he had defended against his own doubts, the girl he had clung to even when she humiliated him in public, was now standing before him like a stranger, no, an enemy in fact.
Samantha continued speaking, her voice now filled with venom. She threw insults at him, mocking his ambitions and even dragging his father into the conversation. Jack's hands tightened into fists. He could feel his blood boiling. When she mentioned his father, something snapped.
He stood up suddenly, his body shaking with rage. "Don't bring my dad into this," he said through gritted teeth.
She laughed in his face, clearly amused by his anger. "Oh, please. What is he going to do? Raise another loser like you?"
Without thinking, Jack lifted his hand and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed through the small apartment, and for a moment, silence filled the space between them. Samantha stumbled slightly, touching her cheek. Her eyes widened, but not from pain. She looked at him with a cold, mocking grin as if to say even his anger was pathetic.
Jack felt a wave of guilt and shame, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper, colder sadness. The girl he had once loved, protected, and sacrificed for did not shed a single tear. She stared at him like he was nothing. Like he had never meant anything to her.
Without a word, she picked up her handbag and started gathering the rest of her things. Jack sat down slowly, the weight of the moment crushing him. He watched her move around the apartment like she was erasing every trace of herself from his life. She pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and put it to her ear. "Hey," she said, her voice suddenly trembling. Then, as if on cue, she began to cry. Loudly.
Jack knew it was fake. He could see her expression before she turned her back on him. The tears were for whoever was on the other end of the call, not for him. He sat there in silence, hands on his lap, feeling the last piece of his heart crumble. His mind retraced everything he had done since high school. Every hour of overtime. Every skipped meal. Every compromise. All for a person who was never really with him to begin with. She left without saying goodbye. She didn't even slam the door. Just like that, she was gone. Jack sat in the silence of his now lonelier apartment. The weight of everything hit him at once. The betrayal. The job loss. The wasted time. But there was no room left in him for tears. The spell had been broken. Love, the beautiful lie that had blinded him for so long, was gone. In its place was a quiet void.