***POV NOAH***
“I don’t love you, Noah.”
Her words echoed in my mind, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
I loved that woman so much that it hurt my chest.
I picked up the small glass on the table and downed its contents, the bitter taste of alcohol burning my throat.
The moments we shared flooded my mind—our conversations, the words of love and affection.
I shook my head.
It couldn’t have all been a lie. I felt it. I lived it. It was real. It is real, dammit.
I signaled to the waitress for another drink. She nodded and disappeared to fetch what I had asked for.
My eyes stayed fixed on the small, empty glass before me.
“Rough night?” The voice of my friend and the bar owner, Liam, broke through my thoughts. I didn’t look up, keeping my gaze on the glass as he refilled it. I waited for him to finish pouring before downing the drink again, the bitterness a familiar companion.
“What’s going on, Noah?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.
No answer.
“I’m getting worried, man,” he said. “Talk to me, for God’s sake.” A pause. “I’ll call your dad if I have to.”
I finally raised my gaze to meet his, catching the worry etched on his face. He studied me for a long moment, silently.
My eyes had been burning all night, and I was doing everything I could to hold back the damn tears.
“You look awful,” he said at last, after his inspection. “Tell me, Noah, what the hell happened to make you like this?”
I stayed silent. A lump had formed in my throat; words refused to come.
“Man, you’ve been here for two hours, and you’ve already drunk more than a bottle of my strongest liquor. You’re freezing, your eyes are tearing up… I’m really worried. You won’t even talk to me, dammit.”
I sighed, struggling to swallow.
“First heartbreak,” I said softly.
“Okay, tell me—what happened?” he urged, leaning closer.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I sighed again, staring at the empty glass in front of me. “I was an idiot.”
“You screwed things up with the girl?” he guessed.
I have shaken my head.
“I tried my best, but sometimes it’s just not enough. I gave everything to this relationship,” I said with a bitter smile. “Not that it was even a relationship… But I gave everything I had. I was fully transparent with her, and she left me. She went back to her lousy ex-husband.”
“Man, heartbreak is something we all go through. It’s part of life. Who hasn’t been there? But you can’t let sadness consume you. You’re young. You’ll meet so many women out there, fall in love again, and find someone amazing who deserves you.”
I shook my head. I would never let another woman into my heart like that again.
Feelings are stupid. Love letters are stupid. The truth is, I became a fool for accepting the mixed signals she gave me—our nights together, her soft caresses, the wine-fueled moments. I became a fool for letting her into my life, my mind, and my heart. Her, with her deep eyes, soft hair, and the most soothing voice I’d ever heard. She came into my life, made plans, and then told me she didn’t love me. Maybe I was wrong to think I’d find peace in her or that she’d feel anything for me.
In the end, I learned that care and affection can be deceiving, especially for someone like me. Starving people will eat any crumbs, and that’s what she gave me. On a silver platter, she served me her scraps, and I, starving as I was, devoured them. How many people has she served those same scraps? Were they ever more than scraps? Did she ever really look at me and want to hold my hand in public? I doubt it.
“I’ll never let another woman into my heart again.”
“Man,” Liam shifted in his chair, trying to meet my eyes. I could see he didn’t know what to say. We’d known each other for so long, and he’d never seen me like this.
I ended up laughing through the storm of emotions. He laughed with me.
“I don’t need advice, man. I’ll be fine.”
“I just hate seeing you like this. Tell me—who’s the girl that messed you up this badly?” he asked, curious.
I adjusted my chair, glanced around, and my eyes landed on the dance floor where we’d danced for the first time.
I sighed.
“Remember the woman I danced with here?” I asked. That day had been one of Liam’s events. I had never danced here before—I didn’t even like dancing. But when I saw her, my steps moved on their own.
“No way!” He covered his mouth, shocked. “How did that happen?”
I raised an eyebrow at his stupid question.
"Excuse me, but isn't she older than you?"
"Does it matter?"
"No. Of course not," he replied quickly. "Tell me more!" He was desperate for gossip.
"There's nothing to tell," I sighed, exhausted. "We've been together since that night. But, as you said - the age difference, the recent end of her marriage - everything was against us. She didn't even want to fight for us."
"She didn't seem like someone who would give up easily. She seemed determined."
"Yeah, maybe she just didn't want me enough."
"Sorry, that's not what I meant," he apologized.
"Just relax. I'm fine."
"Drink as much as you want tonight - it's on the house," he said, getting up and heading for the bar. "Luana, get some more drinks for my friend here. He's heartbroken."
I laughed, shaking my head at him. He never knew how to handle sad people.
I watched as the waitress approached my table, carrying a bottle of brown liquid.
“On the house,” she said, placing another glass on the table and pouring a drink into it.
“Leave the bottle,” I requested.
She hesitated, glancing around nervously before meeting my eyes.
“I know what you’re feeling,” she said softly. “Heartbreak is one of the worst pains there is. It’s intense, suffocating, and feels like it’s crushing your chest.”
“Sit,” I gestured to the chair across from me.
“I can’t. I’m working.”
“Liam won’t mind,” I insisted. She hesitated, then finally sat down.
“What do you know about this?” I asked, not wanting to open up but curious about her take on love and heartbreak.
“Enough to never want to give myself to someone again.”
I nodded in agreement. Someone here understood me.
“Love is a drug,” she said firmly. “We get addicted, and then it dims our light, drains the color from our lives, and leaves everything in black and white. It feels like the world is ending.”
I nodded again. She was right.
“Look,” she adjusted in her chair, her eyes focused on me. “When your heart is broken, it feels unbearable at first. Like you’re dying. But believe me, it’s not the end of the world. You heal. You think it won’t happen again—that you’re immune, hardened, and protected. But it does. The same pain. Again, and again, and again. Different loves, different heartbreaks, but always the same pain. You get used to it, but it still surprises you every time.”