AND YOU ARE STILL WATCHING

The light in the club is soft, kind of blurry. People are talking, laughing, music is playing, but it all feels far away, like background noise. You don’t really hear anything clearly — because all your focus is on him. Niki. Your ex.


He’s leaning against the wall, holding a glass with wine. His shape, the way he moves — all of it feels so familiar. And even though the room is full of people, he’s looking right at you. Straight. No smile. Like he’s trying to say something with his eyes. But you can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a plea.

Then she walks up.
 Your past friend.
 The same girl you once told about him - about how deeply you loved him, how you missed his touch on your neck.
Now, she’s standing next to him. Way too close.

He leans in, whispers something in her ear. She laughs. Too loudly. Too fake. 
And you already know - she wants you to hear it.

— She was always so serious, - Niki says, loud enough for you to hear. - But you are different. It’s easy with you.

His hand slides slowly around her waist. She flinches just a little, but doesn’t move away. In fact, she steps in closer.
 Something in your chest tightens. You don’t know what to do with it. And then - he kisses her.

Slow. Calm. But not gentle.
 You see it all. Every second.
 Her lips are glossy with bright red lipstick. And she leaves a mark.
 A real one.

Then he kisses her again. Deeper. Longer.
 You see the lipstick smudging - all over his bottom lip, his chin, even part of his neck.
 He doesn’t wipe it off.
He doesn’t want to. Because this isn’t random.
 This is for you.
 So you’ll see. And you do. Every second of it.
 Your throat tightens, your cheeks are burning, but you don’t look away. He pulls back from her lips, turns slightly toward you.
 He’s breathing harder now. And he knows exactly what he did.

— You know, - he says to your friend, but loud, very loud, for you, ** . - I’ve always wanted someone to kiss me and leave marks. But she... she never let herself do that. Always too clean.

— Because I didn’t want to be part of your little show, - you say, before you even realise the words are out.

He licks his lips. Slowly.
 You see her lipstick on his tongue. And he knows you're watching.

— Red suits me, doesn’t it? - he smirks, - Look how good it looks.

— It’s none of my business looking at it.

— But you're still looking.

And it’s true.
 You haven’t looked away once.
 And he knows it.

— You just want me to come over, don’t you? -you ask, your voice low.

— But you’re still here. Still burning.

He turns his head away to his girlfriend like it’s over. Like the conversation’s done.


And you just stand there.
 Frozen.
 Hating yourself for still feeling everything. And for this tiny part of you that still wants him.