You let Carlos treat you that way, like a shadow in his life, a silent accomplice in his deceit. You were so willing, so desperate to be part of his world, even if it meant living in the dark corners of his lies. He had a girlfriend who adored him, yet you stayed, knowing full well you were nothing but a mistress, a fleeting affair — something disposable. It ate at you, hollowing you out from the inside. The things you did, the things you sacrificed, just to make him yours, even for a moment. You allowed yourself to be the other woman, to play the part he needed, all the while knowing you would never be his one and only. He used you, discarded you when it was convenient. He made promises that never meant anything, empty words that crossed the line between hope and destruction.

"She's coming. You can go now." he said, running his hand over your hip in a gesture that should have been tender but felt like a cold reminder of everything you'd become. A broken heart, two bloodstained hands reaching for something they could never hold. You had fooled yourself into thinking you were his favorite crime, that you held a place in his twisted world. But sitting on his lap, in the dimly lit driver’s room, surrounded by the scent of cheap cologne and regret, you couldn’t help but ask yourself: Why did love have to hurt this much? Why did you let it take so much from you?

God, how could loving him have turned out to be this painful?