After the breakup, I was pretty much down for a few days.
I’ve always been in good health, but I ended up falling ill.
I didn’t tell anyone.
When I was delirious with fever, I received a call from my mom:
“The blind date I told you about a few days ago, you kept putting off setting a date, so I just gave him your address.”
“He’s someone you know, so you two can talk things over.”
I was still a bit shocked. Before I could say anything, the call ended.
Then the doorbell rang.
I barely managed to change into another outfit and staggered to the door, hoping to send the person away quickly.
But what greeted me was a familiar face.
“Liam.”
As soon as I said his name, the strength I was barely holding onto vanished, and I collapsed forward.
“Jorge is actually a lot like my father—self-centered, never looking at himself when he’s hurt, only using his own wounds to hurt others.”
“You two aren’t right for each other…”
“Before he got involved with that woman, I saw their flirtatious messages. I warned him, but he didn’t care. Do you know what he said?”
I closed my eyes, but Liam’s voice kept going:
“He said it was just a physical affair, that spiritually, he still loved you.”
A physical affair, but spiritually loved me?

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