No marriage, no sex.
That was the agreement Jorge and I had when we started dating.
Seven years of knowing each other, three years of being in a relationship.
He’d always kept his side of the bargain.
The only thing was, he didn’t want to marry. His parents’ divorce as a child had deeply scarred him.
He swore from an early age to be a non-marriage person.
I always tried to pull him out of those childhood shadows. I was like a shadow myself, tolerating all his bad temper.
I often told him:
“Even if everyone you care about stops loving you…”
“I’ll still love you.”
In the end, my love seemed to make a difference.
We were in a relationship, and I thought, if I could just hold on a little longer, if I tried just a bit more, I’d finally see some hope.
But the things on the floor, so glaring, slapped me hard in the face.
The man I had wanted to spend my life with was in bed with another woman.
Jorge’s face flickered, but quickly turned indifferent:
“Men… who doesn’t want to eat meat? If you don’t give it to me, someone else will.”
The woman next to him giggled:
I slammed them down, smashing my love along with them.
“Let’s break up!”
I said, grabbing Lillian’s hand and walking quickly out of the painful place.
Jorge tried to say something, but the woman behind him wrapped her arms around him again:
“Jorge, you’ve kicked her out so many times, and she always comes back.”
“You’re just having a physical affair, her heart will always be yours. Just spoil her a little and she’ll come around.”
Jorge didn’t chase after us.
He probably thought I’d come back.

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