The Heartbroken - S01 E179

Story 4 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E179

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 79

I was acutely aware of the fact that

I could see Cedric’s car just a few

meters away from my car as we

drove, and a thought struck me

then.

Perhaps this described our

relationship now; we were nothing

but two cars travelling the same

road in different journeys.

And maybe I was okay with that, so

I tore my gaze from his car and

faced forward, watching as the

road disappeared beneath the car

—nothing but paths already

crossed—and focused only on

what lay ahead.

—

The familiar jingling of the

overhead bell when Cedric pushed

the door open made me think back

to our first date, so I found myself

saying, “Remember how I ended

up spilling coke all over you back

then?”

He laughed. “You ruined my only

button-up shirt.”

“Hey, didn’t I do you a favor?” I said

defensively, remembering how he

kept complaining because he was

basically harassed by Hail into

wearing it.

“Because dumping your drink on

me on our first date was very

thoughtful of you,” he mused.

I made a face. “I was nervous.”

“So was I. God, I was so nervous.”

He stopped at a booth and

gestured for me to sit.

Any awkwardness that would have

existed between us was quickly

eradicated by the waitress. She was

quick on her feet as she handed a

menu to us. We agreed to share a

plate barbecue-flavored fries and

ordered ourselves some

milkshakes.

The mention of milkshakes also

brought up another memory of

another date, and we both brought

it up at exactly the same time,

saying “Remember when” at the

same time. I raised an eyebrow and

he met my eyes with an amused

smile.

Maybe this could work, I thought to

myself. Maybe we could still be

friends. Like Alyssa and Warren,

who talked about their past like it

didn’t bother them at all.

When our orders arrived, we were

already immersed in a conversation

about that one time when some

waitress screwed up our orders at

the Xin Zhao and Cedric ended up

having some kind of allergic

reaction.

“God, that was embarrassing,” he

said, looking like he was ready to

bury himself alive.

“It was pretty cute,” I offered,

trying and failing to suppress a

smile. “You were really red.”

“Never again,” he said with a

shake of his head, “never again, I

tell you.”

Almost as if we both sensed the

need to talk about the main reason

why we were here in the first place,

we both shut up and stayed silent,

looking uncertainly at each other. I

decided to stay quiet and just stare

at him, daring him to bring it up

first.

He did.

With a sigh, he said, “I don’t know

where to begin.”

To his credit, I didn’t either.

I was painfully aware of the fact

that this conversation wasn’t going

to be easy. We were baring our

wounds for the other to see. They

were still bleeding, but the only way

for them to heal was to talk.

“How long,” I finally said, “have you

been thinking of dumping me

before you actually did?”

“Two weeks.”

I cringed. “Two weeks and I never

saw it coming at all.”