CHAPTER 6

Stella Romilly's pov

Love hurts. It hurts so bad you can barely breathe. It was six in the evening when I was jotting down things in my notebook about my wrongdoings so far. I was on the high chair directly in front of the bar counter. I was in the bar across the street, pushing my mind back to what I did wrong in the past four years. I stared at the ones I wrote.

These were the things I did in the past year. I couldn't remember what I did before that. Maybe it was the loud music. I should move, I thought. Except I couldn't. I was rooted to my chair unwilling to move. I was inert. There was no one to push me either. I raised my hand to request a drink. 

"Anything good!" I yelled at the bartender who nodded without bothering to look at me.

Was I that unappealing? Maybe I stopped taking care of myself. Now I looked ugly. Lisa was prettier. She had captivating bright but deep brown eyes, it was confusing. Mine was just amber. An amber so light that it could pierce your soul. I heard that once. That my eyes were unique. Like a character in a game. Or makeup dress up. Maybe Antonio was scared of my eyes. 

Or it could be her body. I pictured Lisa's body. Lisa had a great body, I analyzed. She had the athletic type of body that was so petite and molded but strong and trained. I looked down at my body. I was more into the curvier side. I wasn't so small like Lisa but I wasn't big either. My frame just made me appear bigger. I wasn't fat either. Maybe Antonio just liked athletic women. The bartender brought my drink and I downed it almost immediately, coughing because I got choked.

 

"Calm down woman, you might burn your throat." I looked at the bartender. He looked concerned.

He shouldn't be concerned. I hated that. My head fell on the counter as I looked at him mischievously. He smiled awkwardly and proceeded to walk over to another customer when I called out to him.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

He turned his head as if he hadn't heard it. I knew he had heard it. He was just pretending. Looking for an excuse to devise a fake compliment for me so I could feel better. It didn't. Instead, it stung. It stung more than what a thousand bees could do. I watched him go to serve other customers. Through the disco lights, I could see him. I could not decipher the color of his hair and the color of his eyes. But I could see his masculine body behind that shirt. His body was masculine, not muscular. I found myself comparing him to Antonio's body. And Antonio's body seemed to surpass it. I saw him approaching me. A white light flashed in our direction and I caught a glimpse of his eyes and hair. He had dark hair-not dark as Antonio's and bright green eyes. 

"You're beautiful," I muttered subconsciously.

Of course, he didn't hear it. Not over the loud music. My vision was roaming. One time he was standing far from me and the next, he was so close to me. Or still far and not too close. Stupid alcohol. 

"You asked a question?"

I almost forgot. Maybe he wasn't lying and he actually didn't hear it. The words left my lips before I considered not repeating the same.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" 

This time he heard it. Loud and clear. I made sure he did. I made sure I left no room for excuses. Somehow I needed validation from this stranger. Anyone. To tell me it wasn't my fault. That truly Antonio had fallen out of love and not because I made a mistake I'm yet to discover. I looked at the note on the counter and then at the confused bartender. Even through the blinding dim lights, I saw that muscle in his jaw clench. His eyes hovered around me. It ended where the counter ended. Inches before my waist.

"why-"

"just-"

"You are beautiful." 

I expected his words to flatter me but they didn't. It did nothing. Maybe because Antonio had said it a lot of times. Way too many times. I caught his eyes lingering on my blossoms for quite a while.

"Thank you," I said to avert his gaze. 

"very-" he cleared his throat.

"I'm Stella."

"Michael."

I smiled, jumping off my seat and holding onto the counter for support. My vision was a haze and in seconds I was in a crowd of swimming bodies. Ready to forget everything and embrace the unreal reality of singleness. It was thrilling. I was no more sad. I was happy. I was bouncy and laughing with strangers. My heels were clanking and tripping over each other. But I didn't care because I had someone to fall on. I drank from random bottles. I gagged. I swayed. I laughed. I danced. I jumped. Then I returned to where I came from. All flushed up. I smashed my head on the counter. The trajectory sending an alarming pulse of pain through my head.

I looked at the book next to my head and picked it up. The letters danced in the atmosphere but I read them. I read them because I had every moment imprinted into my memory. Every single moment.

It read:

I couldn't escort Antonio to an important meeting

I am too jealous

I am too weak

I am fragile

I can't help Antonio in any way

I am an easy target in the Mafia

I can't handle a gun

I love him too much

 

I canceled the latter. He couldn't probably divorce me because I loved him too much. I am sure he did too. I hated how I was writing all this as a surface to what might be the real reason he might have taught about divorce. For a divorce to ever possibly land in his mind. I hated how I could be right. I clutched the pen in my hand, ink pressing and floating through my skin. I blinked away tears as I wrote:

I can't get pregnant