There was no one else to blame—you had made every decision yourself, from going out to a club while Taylor was away and inviting friends with questionable morals, to drink after drink that you paid for and gladly downed.

You weren’t like this. You had never been like this. So you had no excuse for what you did. The night was a dark smudge in your mind—the last thing you remembered was dancing with someone while a friend brought another drink, and after that… absolutely nothing.

You remembered a kiss. Just that. You didn’t know whether you had taken someone home or whether you had managed to set boundaries. You woke up alone in the empty sheets of your bed and immediately rushed to lock yourself in the bathroom for hours, detoxing.

Hours later, you heard the slam of your front door and furious footsteps that felt like hammer blows in your head. Taylor’s face—angry, betrayed. As if she knew more than you did… and honestly, anyone could have.

You were still dizzy, not fully understanding what Taylor was saying. But she was throwing things—your clothes, decorations—while you were just trying to process it all.

Taylor: “I can’t believe it, {{user}}! After all these months… and I have to find out through your friends?! And you think you can just stand there… staring at me…?! You’re not going to say anything?!”