The S Word

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Getting Ready

Alexander drives fast. He changes gears hurriedly as I stay in line with Layla trying to calm her down. I see in the corner of my eye when he glances at me; I see the worry in his eyes every time. He and Layla are friends as well, close friends by now.

The type of friends who have inside jokes, Layla is like a sister to me, and Alexander treats her just like that. I couldn’t even imagine the impact he would have on my life, and now I can’t think of how I was before him.

Probably a bitch.

We arrive in no time at all; Alexander and I run outside of the car to Layla’s house. I loudly bang at the door and try to listen for footsteps. If she doesn’t open it, I’ll kick it down; I don’t even care if she gets mad about it. Layla tried things in the past after her breakups, things that make my heart beat faster out of fear.

Things that people think when their minds are sick with pain.

“Layla,” I yell, not even caring what time it is.

One of his neighbors from next door comes to peek; she is elderly and opens her mouth to scold me. However, the look I gave her sends the message that I don’t give a rat’s ass if I interrupted her show.

“Layla!”

The door is open, and I hang my hand in the air seeing my best friend with puffy red eyes. It’s before she can say anything that I throw my hands around her, pulling the girl into a tight hug, and we both crawl on the floor.

Layla lets her pain out while I sit with him on the cold tiles realizing Alexander is by our side, patting my best friend’s shoulder.

What did I do to deserve him?

“She-”

“I know, love, I know,” I speak, kissing the top of her head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

My best friend turns her gaze to me, angry that I hid something as big as this. She understands I couldn’t tell her, she is a psychologist as well, after all, but the pain she is feeling is not letting her think.

Sighing, I take the strings of hair that fall to cover his beautiful eyes before speaking.

“I could never be the one to tell you, Layla. That was not my place, but I did talk to Jia and told her to be honest with you.”

Her head falls on my shoulder again as her hands clasp around my shirt in an attempt to fight the pain she is feeling.

Alexander places his hand on my leg, a way of telling me not to worry about what’s going on. A form of letting me know he is in this with me.

“She broke up with me,” Layla whispers. “What do I do now?”

“You have two options,” I speak softly, and her eyes lock on mine with all the attention. “You either talk to her, or you don’t talk to ever again. It’s up to you what you want to do.”

“But-”

“No, love,” I interrupt by cupping her face. “I can’t tell you which one to choose; I can only guide you through the pain.”

She nods, understanding, and we stay on the floor, trying to calm her down for a little longer. Eventually, I manage to convince Layla to go to bed, saying I won’t leave the apartment over the night, afraid of her actions.

When I return to the living room, the man I love is seated on the sofa, exhausted as expected but smiling kindly at me. I know it’s only to hide his true feelings about the mess we are into.

“I will stay here tonight,” I speak, sitting next to him and resting my head on his shoulder. “You should go back home and get some rest.”

Alexander turns, his lips rest on top of my head before he speaks, putting his arms around me.

“I am not going anywhere, gorgeous.”


We were awake almost the entire night, thinking about how this even happened. How did the camera turn on again? Alexander thinks she hacked into the camera itself during the live and turned it on once he shut the computer. It’s how she found his apartment before the restraining order; she is quite skilled with computers.

I agree with this, but it still doesn’t make sense how she got all my contacts. Some of them are from work, and I don’t have folders or any info about that on my laptop, only on my phone.

So how did she manage to get them is still unsure.

“Maybe she hacked it too?” Alexander asks.

We lay on the sofa; the sun is already high as we continue discussing what could have happened or how could she have done it. I need to know so I can take the proper actions.

“I don’t think so; everything is the same in there.”

The sound of footsteps startles both of us, and we sit, watching as a sleepy Layla walks into the living room. She doesn’t even care, stumbling in her sleep and crawling to where Alexander and I sit, curling herself into a ball and laying her head on my lap.

“Did you sleep?” I ask, staring at her.

“Barely,” she mumbles. “Did you guys eat?”

“No,” Alexander says. “We were waiting for you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Layla, you will eat.”

The determination of my boyfriend’s voice is so strong that I can’t help but snicker at it. I love it when he does this; even if it’s not in a sexual way, I still enjoy it whenever my man takes charge.

“Fine,” Layla says, walking out of the sofa and into her bedroom again. “But you are paying.”

We order breakfast, pancakes, waffles, fruit, everything we can remember, and Layla eats some of it. When I feel it’s right, I finally ask.

“Did she contact you?”

Layla shakes her head, her shoulders slumping while she chews on a piece of banana. I know she is trying to act strong right now, an attempt to not worrying both Alexander and me. I’ve known her for years, and this is what she always does.

“She didn’t. But I tried, Jia didn’t pick up.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Alexander asks, and Layla shakes her head.

“No, I will talk to her. But only when she wants me to. Maybe in a day or two, after we’ve both calmed down.”

It’s a good thing that she is taking time. She needs to heal even the slightest to try and make things better for both. Layla is in love with.

The rest of the morning, I try to see if she is, in some way, a threat to herself as she was before. But she doesn’t seem to give me any proof she is, and so, with a very sassy attitude, my best friend kicks my boyfriend and me out of her house.

“You two need to go and solve this crap that’s your life right now. I’ll be here.”

“Text me when you call her,” I say, pointing the finger at Layla and making my point known.

Layla nods before shutting the door in our faces, and I chuckle for the first time since last night. Alexander and I walk back to his apartment and then to mine so we can have a change of clothes before driving to his parent’s house.

Our hearts beat a mile per hour during the short trip. Alexander’s hand and mine stay connected the entire time, although in silence. We needed silence, so we try to ease our nerves.

The man I love is close to his parents, and although it’s only been for a while, I grew to love his mother. She calls me every other day to check how I am. I never had that. It breaks my heart, knowing that now I blew away the chances of ever be accepted by his family.

Alexander parks the car at the front of the house, and we saunter to the door.

Everything seems to take longer as both our breathings rush while we try to control them, listening to the footsteps before a very apprehensive woman is on the other side staring at both of us.

“Hi, Mrs. Miller.”

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