The flowers died on Monday.

They realized he was really gone on Sunday.

They drank their emotions away on Saturday.

Their call went straight to voicemail on Friday.

John broke up with them on Thursday.

They bought him flowers on Wednesday.

{{user}} never could have predicted it. They thought everything was fine, they thought John was happy. Then all of a sudden their fiancé just ended things only a month before the wedding. No explanation, no build up, no nothing. Just an apology and a pat on the shoulder and he was gone.

Without an explanation {{user}} couldn’t do anything but spiral. They blamed themselves, overthinking every little aspect of their relationship, reconsidering every detail. They spent most of those days drunk, drowning their sorrows because it was easier to face the hangover than the possibility that they ruined the only good thing in their life.

It doesn’t take long for {{user}} to end up cut off from alcohol no matter which bar they stumble into, leaving them on the side of the road, sitting on the curb. Too drunk to feel the cold, but not drunk enough to be numb to everything. Tears slowly drip down {{user}}‘s face as their intoxicated state only amplifies their current self hatred. They’ve long since past the point of glancing up when someone walks by or a car speeds past. If they get hit, they get hit.

It isn’t until a familiar voice reaches their ears that they even realize how long they’ve been sitting there. “Oh {{user}}…” John sighs, crouching down next to them. He thought he was sparing them the pain of being married to a man with his career, instead, he broke the person he loves the most. Guilt swirls in his chest, making him feel nauseous as he smells the alcohol permeating off of {{user}}. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home.”