32

PYKE

I stare blankly at the glass wall where I made love to Camila. My apartment is dead silent, and the only thing I can hear is my own constant sighing. It’s even difficult to breathe when my only companion is my guilt over her. One night, I sleep at the hotel since this place reminds me of her. I admit I got it fucking bad.

Camila wasn’t supposed to find it out that way, but it’s too late to blame myself for that. That bitch screwed up everything—from my life to my future with Camila.

What am I gonna do now?

You’re not good at following rules, Pyke, now what stopping you? My brain still functions I guess.

My holiday didn’t go as I planned—I fucked up. Even my family seemed to notice me zoning out a lot. I found them exchanging glances, but they didn’t pry me though. I guess, they got the answers on their own.

I sent her messages and my Christmas gifts, but not a single reply from her