Refresh the page. The message remains.
Again. The same result.
Again, and Again and Again.
Truth doesn’t care about feelings.
‘Why, why would she do it?’
Uninstall the app & turn the phone off. Switch it back & reinstall the app. Go to messages and open the one on the top. The one from an unknown account.
It’s still there. The photo of her with another man. She is looking happy; he is looking like they just fucked.
‘It is… it is not. This is not happening. No. It is not.’
Look again. Nothing’s changed. ‘It’s not happening, it has happened. What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. How? Why? When? FUCK.’
Throw the phone away.
‘Bitch. Slut. Whore. Fucking whore. Did she really fuck him? Maybe. Maybe he’s just a friend.’
Pick up the phone and open the second picture. The screen is cracked but there is no mistaking about what they are doing. This time make sure that it breaks.
‘No. No, no, no, no, NOOOOOOOO…….’ Pick up the vase and throw it on the floor. Pick the second vase and do it again. They break into a thousand pieces.
‘She always liked vases. Good. Teaches her a lesson. Fucking slut. How the fuck did this happen?’
Scream into the void. ‘Bitch. Slut. Whore.’
‘Is he rich? He’s probably rich. Ravi always said she is a gold digger. I should have listened to him. But I was in love. Fucking love. LOVE. Fucking bitch took my love and left me to die. Fuckkk.’
Scream again. Tear at the newly transplanted hair. ‘Doctors advised against it. But what the fuck? I did it for her. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of listening to her fucking voice and watching those idiotic shows with her and clicking those stupid selfies and eating all the shit that she made without making a face. Seven years of crushing all my desires, seven years of not sleeping, kissing, flirting, staring, fucking talking with another woman and this is how she repays me. Fucking slut.’
Slap me. ‘Focus. Focus. Focus.’
‘Is it the sex? She was always the wilder one. Threesomes, orgies, bitch wanted them all. Did she do it for that? Is he the only one? How many men is she fucking behind my back? Two, five, a dozen?? Goddamn, this shit.’
Pace the room like a maniac. ‘Let her come back. I am going to kill the bitch. Fucking slut. Whoring behind my back. Office trips. Fucking office trips. How many dicks was she taking on those? Goddamn it.’
Stomp the phone. Again, and again and again.
‘Who else? Anyone, I know? What about the neighbors? That dirty piece of shit with too much money to spend? Are they doing it too? After I go to the office? Any of my friends? If I can’t trust her, I can’t trust anyone. I can’t fuck trust anyone. Aghhhhh. I am going insane. I am going insane. I am fucking insane.’
‘What will I do? What will I do? Kill her? Kill her? Kill her. I am going to kill her. I am going to put her stupid head on a stupid plate and pound it with a hammer till there is nothing fucking left….’
The table goes next. Pick up the fire extinguisher from the other room and pound on it until only wooden chips remain.
‘Fuck. Why? Why? Why, why, why? I could have given my life for her. I would have done anything. Money? Fuck money. I would have bought her the entire Disneyland. If she wanted better sex, why didn’t she ask? Why did she have to do it? Why, why, why, why? Why….’ I fall on the heap of broken clay and wood. A broken heart, a broken man.