Short Story: Broken Hearted

The smell of the cigarette burnt my nose as I peered over the edge of the balcony. The moonlight illuminating the city below his apartment.
The smoke filled my lungs only to deflate with a feeling of emptiness as they squeezed out a wheezed cough.
I felt the chilled air run through my hair as it wisped around me, my thin jacket clung tightly to my shoulders in fear of it flying away.

I could hear the hustle and bustle of the nightlife under me. The parties, the raves, the drunken rebels starting fights, only for police sirens to replace their sound.

The streets were always lively.
A liveliness I was soon to miss.

I never would have thought it would end like this.
Such a beautiful night, not a cloud in the starry sky.
But his words crept up like thick fog.

I let out a sigh as I butted out the end of my cigarette in his ashtray. A soft smoke still slowly coming from it as its blaze died down.

I slid the balcony door open, pushing aside the transparent curtain as I stepped inside.
I placed his lighter on the counter where I found it, I left on the hallway light for him to see when he came back, I left the bracelet in the bowl of old jewellery in his closet.
I should have known.

I shouldn’t have had to wait for his confession.
After all the late nights, the missed calls, the excuses.
I played myself.

I slipped on my heels, not bothering to fix my hair as I left his apartment.
I took the elevator to the ground floor and stepping out into the street.
I walked for a few moments before spotting a taxi I flagged down.

I was back to my old life, but his time was different.
I was left with an aching, hollow heart, and tears I still hadn’t allowed to fall yet.

I was back to normal, just broken-hearted.