In the Embrace of the Past

“I want us to break up!” Jack, a handsome man standing before Cleo, declared. His words struck like lightning on a dark night for Cleo, a young 21-year-old woman seated by the window. Few words were spoken, yet they were enough to shatter her heart.

Cleo sat silently, her mind processing the statement Jack had just made. She forced a smile, but it was a feeble attempt—an artificial facade that failed to mask her pain. “Break up?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yes, we’re done!” Jack reiterated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Just a few words, but they felt like the ground crumbling beneath Cleo’s feet. Tears threatened to spill, but she held them back, determined to appear strong.

“I’ve had enough of you, Cleo. I’m tired of this!” Jack continued, his tone flat as if the words carried no weight to him.

Cleo stared blankly at him. “Tired?” she repeated, her gaze slowly drifting to a woman sitting in the corner of the room, her head bowed. That woman had taken Cleo’s place in Jack’s life.

“Yes,” Jack replied curtly, showing no sign of remorse.

Cleo’s eyes lingered on the woman before her face turned somber. Without hesitation, she stood and approached her, gripping the woman’s wrist as she sat frozen. “What’s so special about this woman, Jack?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Stop it! Don’t drag her into this, Cleo!” Jack barked angrily, brushing Cleo’s hand away. “It’s better if you leave and never bother us again. Got it?”

Cleo froze, stunned that Jack would speak so harshly to her, humiliating her in front of the other woman.

“So, everything between us meant nothing?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Why didn’t you tell me from the start, Jack?” The words erupted from her, anger and heartbreak overpowering her restraint.

But Jack remained silent. He seemed entirely satisfied with his decision.

Cleo’s eyes turned red, her cheeks burned, and her entire body trembled with rage and despair. Clenching her fists tightly, she struggled to contain the storm inside her. Before she could think, her hand moved, delivering a sharp slap to Jack’s face, making his head snap to the side.

“Bastard! I thought you were different!” she shouted, her voice thick with emotion. She laughed bitterly and shook her head, her strength faltering. “You’re just like every other guy out there, Jack. No different at all!”

“Jack, are you okay?” the other woman asked worriedly, reaching for Jack’s arm. Cleo scoffed softly, disgusted by the sight of the woman’s concern for Jack.

The slap didn’t faze Jack. Instead, he smirked cynically, unfazed by the sting on his cheek. “I’m fine,” he said, touching his reddened skin.

Jack glared at Cleo. “You’re pathetic, Cleo. You should’ve realized I was done with you a long time ago. If you care about yourself, leave now and don’t come back.”

Cleo clenched her jaw, her gaze shifting to the woman sitting silently nearby. Disgust welled up within her as she wondered how someone could be so shameless.

Her hands remained fists, but she held herself back. Though she wanted to lash out at the woman too, she refrained. Instead, she shot a piercing glare at Jack, as if her eyes alone could hurt him.

“You’ll regret this, Jack!” Cleo yelled, her voice thick with fury before storming out.

Cleo never imagined Jack would betray her like this, ending their relationship in front of the woman who replaced her. It felt as though her world was crumbling around her.

She hurried out of the room, wiping away the tears streaming down her face. Reaching her car, she climbed in, started the engine, and sped away, desperate to escape the tormenting reality.

“Why are all men the same?” she screamed, pounding the steering wheel. Tears flowed freely, and her disheveled hair mirrored the chaos inside her.

“How could you be so cruel, Jack? I never thought you could be this heartless,” she muttered, biting her lip to suppress her rage.

Not long after, Cleo pulled up outside a nightclub. Without a second thought, she stepped out of the car and entered, seeking solace or distraction in the bustling atmosphere. Though the night was late and the place unfamiliar, Cleo didn’t care.

Inside the club, she sat at the bar, watching others revel as if their problems didn’t exist. Her gaze was vacant, longing to join their carefree world and forget her heartache. “Maybe they’re like me—nursing a broken heart or dealing with other issues,” she murmured bitterly, trying to soothe her inner turmoil.

Cleo let out a bitter laugh and picked up a glass of alcohol poured in front of her.

“Put that drink down,” a voice suddenly said.

Startled, Cleo turned to find a man seated beside her. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, his face vaguely familiar. “Who... are you? This is none of your business,” she replied softly.

The man met her gaze with a calm yet firm expression. “That drink won’t solve your problems,” he said plainly.

Cleo rolled her eyes, irritated by the stranger’s intrusion. “Why do you care? I don’t need a lecture from someone I don’t even know,” she retorted, lifting her glass.

But the man quickly stopped her hand, surprising her. “Don’t do this,” he said again. His voice wasn’t judgmental but filled with genuine empathy. “You’re hurt and angry. This won’t help—it’ll only make things worse.”

Cleo stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “You don’t understand what I’m going through,” she whispered, her voice raw with pain.

“You’re right; I don’t know the details,” he admitted. “But I do know what it feels like to be broken by someone you trusted. Like your world has stopped, and there’s no reason to keep going.”

His words made Cleo pause. There was something familiar in his tone—as if he had walked this road before.

“Why do you care?” she asked, trying to hide her curiosity.

The man offered a faint smile, tinged with sadness. “I can’t change what’s happened to you, but I can make sure you don’t hurt yourself any further. That drink isn’t the answer, Cleo.”

Cleo blinked. “How do you know my name?”