Protective Intervention

I wasn’t the sore loser type. The desperate and insecure woman who seemed to be going through a fit in front of me was clearly worried about her husband. If I wanted to be a heartless bitch, I could have said some meaningful things to her; however, what good would that do me?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Then why did he go to your room?” the woman asked accusingly.

Oh…was she spying on him or did she get someone to keep tabs on him.

I didn’t want to know. I really didn’t want to know.

I let out another sigh. Is it even possible to convince someone when their mind is so made-up like this?

“You’re completely misunderstanding all of this. Kyle came to my room to pick up his things. That’s all. There was probably something that he needed that he left behind in my room. After our…sudden break up, we didn’t really talk or meet up…so…” I explained before trailing off with a shrug of my shoulders.

If it had been up to me, I would have wished for him to never turn up at my door again. H