Game of Hearts

part 14

Miranda slumped on the couch in her mansion, a half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey clutched in her hand. The world spun around her as she drank, trying to drown her sorrows and forget the pain of her rejection.

Her sister, Danielle, watched from the other side of the room, her face filled with concern. “Miranda,” she said, her voice low and gentle. “You can’t keep drinking like this. It’s not healthy.”

Miranda ignored her, taking another long swig of whiskey.

Miranda continued to drink, her tears mingling with the alcohol as she wallowed in self-pity.

The empty bottles lined up on the floor, a silent testament to her pain.

Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair matted and disheveled. She was a shadow of her former self, a broken woman on the verge of collapse.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Danielle said, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not worth your tears, Miranda.”

Danielle watched as Miranda continued to drink, her heart breaking for her sister. She knew that Miranda was in pain, and she wanted to help her, even if it meant getting drunk herself.

She opened the unopened bottle of whiskey and joined Miranda on the sofa, her face somber and serious.

“If he can’t see how amazing you are, then he doesn’t deserve you,” she said, taking a long swig from the bottle. “You deserve better, Miranda.”

Miranda’s voice was slurred and thick with alcohol as she spoke, her words spilling out in a tangled web of pain and confusion.

“We had sex,” she said, her eyes red and puffy. “A day before yesterday, he was dying. We had sex yesterday, and he said he loved me. He said he loved me, Danielle.”

Danielle shook her head, her eyes filled with compassion. “He played you, Miranda,” she said softly. “He used you. He never loved you.”

Miranda shook her head, her voice filled with anguish. “I believed him, Danielle,” she sobbed, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “I believed that he meant what he said. I believed that he loved me.”

Danielle wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulders, her heart breaking for her. “He didn’t love you, Miranda,” she said softly. “He didn’t deserve your love.”

Miranda took another long swig of whiskey, her voice was raw and bitter, her words laced with anger and confusion. “I’m not angry, Danielle,” she said, her eyes flashing with fury. “I’m not sad. I’m not happy. I’m just alive. That’s all I am. Alive.”

Danielle’s face was filled with sorrow as she watched her sister struggle to cope with her pain.

“You deserve better, Miranda,” she whispered, her voice filled with compassion. “You deserve to be happy.

Miranda’s voice grew bitter and cold, her words sharp as knives. “He had sex with me, and then proposed to her,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. “She’s right. I was just a moment of weakness for her fiancé. Just a toy he could play with and then discard when he was done.”

Danielle shook her head, her eyes filled with sorrow. “You deserve better than that, Miranda,” she said, her voice soft and gentle.

Miranda drained her bottle of whiskey, her eyes shining with tears as she stared into the empty glass. “Let’s drink to that, big sis,” she said, her voice bitter and cold. “Let’s drink to your little stupid sister who can’t even recognize when she’s being played.”

Danielle joined her, raising her bottle in a silent toast. “To Miranda,” she said softly, her eyes filled with compassion. “To the strong, beautiful woman who deserves better than she’s been given.”