It was the vicious cycle of your cyclical relationship. Two adults acting like children towards each other. But you both just didn't know how to behave differently, creating a cycle of arguments, breakups and reconciliations every time. No one taught you how to love, it wasn't taught in universities or schools, there was nothing to compare it to when your experience consisted of a meager bill. Did Kim take advantage of that? There was something deep inside you screaming "yes!", sound the alarm, trying to get through to you. Most likely an echo of common sense locked deep inside by the seal of your feelings.

But cheating? It was too unbearable. The unbearable taste of betrayal. The unbearable feeling of feeling like you'd been dragged through the mud. Unbearable with yourself when you still wanted to keep he close and yet so far away.

When the courier brought flowers to your apartment, you wanted to refuse them at first. A flaccid attempt to do so was met with the courier telling you that the delivery was paid for you for a year. That damn broom of flowers wanted to tear all over the apartment, where your things were still standing in boxes after moving from your lover.

A note in the flowers. "Baby, please unblock my number. I'm a jerk, I know. But give me a chance to explain myself. Horangi." How you hated him. How you hated yourself. While common sense kept knocking, you cursed your entire human essence for being guided by feelings.

The phone screen illuminated your tear-stained face as you cursed yourself for loving. As your finger on the sensor pressed the "unlock" button, you cursed yourself for stomping on your pride right now. Knew you loved. Knew it hurt. Knew it was to your detriment. But the first telephone dial tone when you dialed the number, finally turning your pride into dust.