Tell Me With Flowers

39. The only hope

MEGAN

I felt as if my heart was plucked out of my ribs and squashed together. As if thousands of knives were put in me at the same time. As if I couldn't take another breath.

I turned around, not wanting to witness them any further. I had seen enough and I had heard enough. Here I was thinking I had cheated on him with a mere letter that I had never answered to, while he had gone ahead to show me how things were done.

My initial agony turned into an untamed rage that I didn't have any control over. All the rays of hope I had in me when I decided to show up to this stupid party slipped between my very fingers.

Despite the fact that Miles had ignored me, avoided my calls, I had taken up the courage to show up at his best friend's Valentine's Day party to tell him how much he meant to me. But he had proven me wrong once again. As soon as he was hurt, he didn't see through the facts and went right ahead back to his old lover.

He had given her red roses. My favourite. A bouquet of them. It was Valentine's Day for God's sake! At the middle of the drinks section, they were kissing each other, smiling, and talking. I wanted to punch his guts, break his teeth, and make him all ugly so that Shelly Morgan or any other woman for that matter, would despise him the moment they set an eye on him.

"Megan!" He called, and I never turned around to acknowledge him.

It wasn't worth it. How dare he announce it to the world that we were still in a relationship, ignore the fact that I exist and further go ahead to have an intimate rendezvous with his old girlfriend? Obviously, he still had feelings for her, or he was doing it in front of me to spite me?

I had heard enough about the polls that were currently running in the social media about who could be the best girl for Miles and they had concluded that Shelly was a perfect match. But I wanted to prove that I was everything that the media didn't see.

Sure, the last rumor about me cheating was a bit out of line, but I didn't care about them as long as Miles would trust me for me. How was a little talking and laughing going to put a label on me? But when Miles had defended me on that interview, I was more than happy and way over the clouds. But now, I realized that it was only a public gimmick.

I stomped my way to the other side where drinks were served. I got a strong Martini - extra olives and extra dry. Before I had a sane thinking about it, I gulped it down and asked for another round. With the fifth drink in hand, I was sloshed.

"Darling, I think you had enough." I heard Miles say behind me and for the first time, I wasn't startled by his presence. "Party time is over, let's get back home."

"I will leave the party when I want to!" I protested. "Get me another drink." I said to the bartender, ignoring Miles next to me. But even after moments, my drinks hadn't arrived yet. "Why the heck are you not giving me a drink?"

"Megan, come on." Miles said, helping me up. "Let's go."

"I'm not coming anywhere with you!" I said. He looked blur with a dashing coat on his shoulders. I couldn't see his dark eyes clearly and it gave me an opportunity to ignore if he was mad. "You are mean, selfish and an arrogant bastard! You know what? I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Okay, that's enough." Miles said, his voice a little harsher than before and I hoped that I made a point with that.

"See, now you have a problem." I continued. "You can get drunk, put all my calls to voice mail, hide in the washroom when I come to your restaurant, but when it's my turn, I can't drink? It's my life and I'm the only person who's going to rule it. So, fuck off!"