Champagne would always taste like freedom, like the Tuesdays I spent without April. I opened my eyes and saw Kaspar beside my bed at Ethniu’s, pouring me a glass in a flute. It motioned for me to raise my glass, then it clinked it with his own. “I’ve heard tell that you’ve been liberated from monogamy at last! This calls for a celebration!”
“And I’ve had… five glasses of wine and… five cocktails so… Seven drinks. I was just calling to let you know that… what you did to me last night, it was fucked up. And if I die tonight, it’s out of spite.”
The relationship with my ex reaches a boiling point as a new job opportunity presents itself– and my ex doesn’t stand to benefit from it. TW: Abusive relationships.
Leading up to our much-needed vacation was stressful enough for it to warrant its own vacation. Vali had […]
“You wrote her into your book,” April had reasoned. “You’re basically using your book to emotionally cheat on me.”
“Y-You. You realise this a dead girl I’m supposedly cheating on you with, yeah? I’m not exactly having weekly trysts in the cemetery.”
April hadn’t liked when I pointed that out.
Wherein the ‘Weeaboo Death March’ is born.