**_POV NOAH_**
“I don’t love you, Noah.”
Her words circled in my mind, my eyes stinging with the urge to cry.
I loved that woman so much that it hurt my chest.
I picked up my small glass from the table and downed the entire drink, feeling the bitter taste of the alcohol.
The moments I’d spent by her side lingered in my mind—our conversations, words of love and affection.
I shook my head.
It couldn’t all have been a lie. I felt it. I lived it. It was real, it is real, damn it.
I signaled to the waitress for another drink. She nodded and went to get what I asked for.
My eyes were fixed on the empty glass on the table.
“Rough day?” I heard the voice of my friend and the bar owner, Liam. I didn’t look up to meet his gaze, just kept staring at my glass as he filled it up again. I waited until he finished pouring and downed it, tasting the bitterness once more. “What’s going on, Noah?” he asked, concerned.
No response.
“I’m starting to get worried, man,” he sighed. “Talk to me, damn it,” he pleaded. “I’ll call your dad.”
I raised my eyes to his face, seeing the worry etched there. He looked me over for a few seconds, silent.
My eyes had been burning all night as I fought off the tears however I could.
“You look terrible,” he said after a long study. “Tell me, Noah, what the hell happened to make you like this?”
Again, I stayed silent. There was a lump in my throat, and I couldn’t even speak.
“Man, it’s been two hours since you walked through that door, and you’ve downed more than a bottle of my strongest stuff. You’re just sitting there, eyes watering… I’m seriously worried. You’re not even talking to me, damn it.”
I sighed, struggling to swallow.
“First heartbreak, right?” I said quietly.
“Okay, tell me, what happened?” he asked, adjusting himself in his seat to get a better look at me.
“There’s nothing to tell…” I sighed, looking back at my now-empty glass. “I was an idiot.”
“You messed up with the girl?” he tried to guess.
I shook my head.
“I tried to give my best, but sometimes that’s not enough. I gave everything I had to that relationship,” I said with an ironic smile. “I don’t even know if it was a relationship… but I gave everything, put myself out there a hundred percent, was completely open with her, and she left me… went back to her lousy ex-husband!”
“Man, one day, we all go through heartbreak. It’s part of life. Who hasn’t? But you can’t give in to sadness. You’re still young; you’ll meet plenty of women out there, you’ll love again, and find someone amazing who deserves you.”
I shook my head. I’d never let another woman get into my mind and heart like that again.
Feelings are stupid, love letters are stupid. The truth is, I became a complete fool for accepting her mixed signals, for those nights together when she held me close, with wine glasses in hand. I became a fool the moment I let her into my life, into my mind, into my heart. She, with those deep eyes, that soft hair, the most soothing voice I’ve ever heard. She came into my life making plans, only to then tell me she didn’t love me. Maybe I was wrong to think I’d find the peace I’d been searching for in her, or that she’d feel even a hint of affection for me. In the end, I learned that care and kindness can be misleading, especially for someone like me. People starving for love will settle for crumbs, and that’s exactly what she gave me. She served me crumbs on a silver platter, and I, feeling so starved, devoured them. But how many others did she serve those same crumbs to? Were they ever more than crumbs? Did she ever look at me and want to hold my hand in public? I don’t think so.
“I’m never letting another woman into my heart again.”
“Man,” he said, adjusting his seat to look me in the eyes. I could see he was at a loss, not knowing how to help me in this state. After all, I’ve known him so long, and he’s never seen me suffer like this. “I’m terrible at giving advice.”
I looked up at his face; he seemed desperate, wanting to help but not knowing how.
I ended up laughing amid the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. He laughed along with me.
“I don’t want advice, man. I’ll be fine.”
“But I hate seeing you like this… Tell me, who’s the girl that left you like this?” he asked, curious.
I adjusted myself in my seat, glancing around, catching sight of the dance floor where we’d danced the first time we met.
I sighed.
“Remember the woman I danced with here?” I asked. That day was an event for Liam; I’d never danced here before, and I didn’t even like it. But when I saw her… my feet stopped obeying me.
“No way!” He covered his mouth, shocked. “How did that happen?” he asked, and I raised an eyebrow at his clueless question. “Sorry, but damn, isn’t she older than you?” he asked.
“Does that matter?”
“No. Of course not…” he replied. “Tell me more!” he begged, dying to know the gossip.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I sighed, “We’d been together since that day. But like you said, the age difference, her recent breakup—everything worked against us. She didn’t even want to fight for us.”
“She didn’t strike me as someone who’d give up on something she wanted. On the contrary, she seemed pretty determined.”
“Well, maybe she never wanted me in the first place.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried to apologize.
“It’s fine; I’m okay.”
“You can drink all the booze in the bar tonight, on me,” he said, getting up from his chair and going over to the counter. “Luana, bring more drinks for my friend here; he’s got a broken heart.”
I shook my head, laughing at my friend. He’s never been good at dealing with people’s sadness.
I watched the waitress approach my table, holding a bottle with a brown liquid inside.
“On the house,” she announced as she approached. “Excuse me,” she said, setting another glass on the table and pouring a bit of the drink into it.
“Leave the bottle here,” I requested.
“Look,” she glanced around, nervously biting her lip before meeting my gaze again. “I know what you’re feeling… Heartache is one of the worst pains there is. It’s painful, intense, it takes your breath away, and it squeezes your chest.”
“Sit down,” I offered, pointing to the chair across from me.
“I can’t; I’m working.”
“Liam won’t mind,” I insisted. She looked around and sat down across from me.
“What do you know about this?” I asked suggestively. I didn’t want to pour my heart out to a stranger, but I was curious about what she knew of love and heartbreak.
“Enough to never want to give myself to anyone again.”
I nodded in agreement. Someone here seemed to understand…
“Love is a drug,” she said firmly. “We get addicted, and then it drains our light, fades the colors in our life, leaves everything black and white. It feels like our world ends…”
I nodded in full agreement.
“Look,” she adjusted herself in her seat, looking at me intently, “when you have a broken heart, at first, it’s awful. It feels like you’re going to die. But believe me, it’s not the end of the world, and we don’t die. After you eventually manage to heal your broken heart, you think you’ll never go through it again, that now that you’ve experienced it, you’re immune, that somehow we’re shielded, hardened. It’s hard because, when we least expect it, the same thing happens. We always end up suffering the same pain over and over again, countless times. Because heartbreak is recurring, even though love itself is different. Different loves, different heartbreaks over a lifetime, but always the same pain. We get used to it, and yet we’re still surprised when it comes.”