INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 89
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Genevieve ~
It’s almost laughable how swiftly the human heart can fracture, and when I say laughable, I mean it in the most ironic sense. I’ve lost count of the novels I’ve devoured, the films I’ve cried over, yet I never truly understood that love can be this beautifully chàotic force that lifts you off your feet, only to leave you crumpled on the ground.
But then came Dominic—an unexpected whirlwind that turned my skepticism into something more tangible, something I thought would last forever.
Ah, the naïve girl that I was. I used to think heartbreak was just a word, a concept that lived in the pages of fiction. That same girl, believing so fervently in love, has now been left shattered, her heart a mere collection of splintered dreams.
She is broken—utterly, irrevocably broken—by the one person she trusted above all others. The very one to whom she surrendered not just her heart, but her body, her trust, her soul, her time. I gave everything, poured my essence into a relationship that, in his eyes, was merely a fleeting distraction.
I was nothing more than a game, and he played me with a skill that left me blind to the signs. How did I not see the truth? Was I really that naïve?
“You are nothing to me!”
The night was cloaked in darkness, an eerie chill hanging in the air that felt far too cold for a summer evening. Perhaps the weather should have been a warning, a prelude to the storm brewing within our lives.
If only I had chosen to stay in bed, cocooned in my own delusions, I wouldn’t be left in this agoniziñg state. My heart is shattéred, scatteréd like ash in the wind, and his crúel words echo in my mind, a hauntíng refrain I can’t escape.
“I am done!”
“You are nothing but a fuckíng pastime—a wretchéd one at that!”
It húrts.
Every inch of me aches.
I find myself drenched, not just from the rain that pours down relentlessly, but from the sorrow that clings to my skin like a heavy cloak. I walk through the deserted streets, feeling the chill of the night seep into my bones, unprotected and vulnerable under a sky that seems indifferent to my plight.
“Why the héll would you think you are worthy of me?!”
“Is there even an ‘us’ if none of it were true?!
Was it something I did? Some past transgression that warranted this punishment?
“You suffócate me!”
“For a King, you are so pathétic. Aren’t Kings supposed to possess some semblance of self-respect?!
If I did something wrong, why must I súffer like this?
Why him?
Why the one person I dared to let into my heart?
Why the one person I loved so deeply, trusted so completely?
“I don’t love you!”
“Genevieve, I don’t love you!”
“I don’t love you!”
Maybe I am unlovable. Yes, that must be it. There’s something inherently flawed within me that I fail to see, but he saw it all too clearly.
His expression twisted in disgúst as if my very presence revolted him. I was nothing more than a smudge on his pristine life, a blemish he wished to erase.
“I’ve had my fun with you, and now I’m done!”
“There are countless beautiful, remarkable women in this world. Why on earth would you think I would want you?!
Not only did he break my heart, but he shattéred my trust, leaving me feeling sullied, like a discarded object he found lying in the gutter.
“Come on, Baby, were you really that delusional?” Yes! Yes, I was delusional to think that I could be anything more than a fleeting moment for someone who never truly saw me.
He was right; I am not special. Just another face lost in the crowd.
“Well, I guess that’s goodbye now, huh?” was the last words I managed to choke out before turning away, forcing myself not to look back as I walked away from the remnants of what I thought we had.
I left the car he had bought for me, a hollow shell of a gift that never truly belonged to me. My only possession was my phone, which I clutched tightly as I dialed my sister, desperately seeking solace.
It was just minutes to midnight when I called, and now it’s half past twelve. I am cold, broken, and a bit lightheaded, my heart weighed down by the crushing reality of my situation. Normally, I would reach out to Jules, but she’s away on a school trip.
Speaking of Jules, she once warned me with a voice laced in concern, “Word of advice: don’t. Someone’s going to end up really húrt, and it won’t be him.”
How did she know?
In that moment, my knees buckled beneath me, surrendering to the weight of despair. I crumpled to the cold, wet ground, the gravel biting into my skin as I let the tears flow—those same tears I had hidden from him, now spilling freely like a torrential rainstorm.
I didn’t care if anyone saw me; the world around me faded into a blur of darkness, and thankfully, the empty road bore witness only to my anguish. The occasional headlights of passing cars illuminated my sorrow for just a moment, but I was grateful for the shroud of night that concealed my broken face.
Then, a light appeared, and the sound of tires crunching against gravel broke the heavy silence. I lifted my head, my heart racing, to see my sister leaping out of the car. She was still in her pajamas, her hair tousled, with Xavier trailing behind her in a similar state of disarray.
“What happened, Genny?” Adrianna asked, her voice urgent as she lowered herself to the ground beside me, mirroring my defeat. “Who made you cry?”
“He broke up with me,” I whispered, each word punctuated by fresh waves of tears.
“That bàstard,” Xavier muttered, his tone dripping with contémpt.
“Why? Did he say why?” Adrianna pressed, concern etching lines across her brow.
I sniffled, my voice trembling as I replied, “Yeah. Apparently, I bore him, suffócate him, and oh, I’m just a kid. He said he doesn’t love me.” The floodgates opened wider, tears cascading down my cheeks. “Why? Why doesn’t he love me? Is there something wrong with me?”
“No, of course not. You’re perfect,” Adrianna insisted, her eyes fierce and protective.
I shook my head, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “No one is perfect, and definitely not me. I am unlovable, stúpid, gullible, and just plain foólish. I am a faulty foól.”
“Genevieve…” Adrianna cradled my face in her hands, her touch warm and grounding, but it did nothing to stem the tide of my grief. “You’re definitely not a foól. You’re the most brilliant girl I have ever had the pleasure to meet, and I am proud to be your sister. You’re not an idiót, and you’re not gullible. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“Then, why doesn’t he love me?” I cried, my heart aching as if it were being crushed in a vice.
“Because he’s a foól,” Xavier snapped, añger flashing in his eyes. “Should I kíll him and bring you his head?”
“It húrts. Everything húrts. Please, make it stop. Why… why does it húrt so much? It feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest, like it’s being shredded to pieces. It húrts so much.” My vision blurred, a cocktail of tears and rain merging into a haze. It felt like my heart was bleéding, gutted by a kñife that twisted cruelly with every breath. “Make it stop, Adrianna, please make it stop.”
It húrt so much. It húrt to breathe, it húrt to talk, it húrt to even move. I felt as though my body wasn’t mine. It was as if I were a ghost, drifting aimlessly within someone else’s skin.
“Oh, darling,” Adrianna murmured in her familiar gentle tone, the one she reserved for moments like this, not for work. “I can’t say for certain. Perhaps he was overwhelmed and simply vented his frustrations on you without a second thought.”
I suspected as much. I pleaded with him to share what was troubling him, to let me in on his burdens. Yet, when he began uttering those hurtfúl words, I just… shattéred.
“Or perhaps he isn’t lying about the whole ‘I don’t love you, I’ve never loved you’ business.”
“You can’t truly believe that, can you? That Dominic doesn’t love you? That man is utterly besotted with you; he doesn’t even attempt to conceal it. It shines so vividly in his eyes whenever he looks at you, whether or not you’re aware of it. I’m no expert on love, but I’m fairly certain that love doesn’t vanish overnight.”
He loves me?
How could he possibly love me while still uttering such paínful words?
I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d said something so cruél. He was practically a virtuoso of hurtfúl remarks. And I always allowed him to claim victory.
“He looks at you like… like…” She paused, hissing softly, as if searching for just the right word to convey her meaning. “You know what, let’s head home. You’re drenched, cold, and shivering.”
••
That was two weeks ago. Two blóody weeks since I had my heart shatteréd, and I may have proven his words right by reaching out.
“Can we talk?”
“Please, let’s talk, even if it’s just for five minutes.”
“I did something, didn’t I? You can shout at me if you wish; I won’t mind or say anything in return this time.”
“Please, don’t do this.”
That was the last message I sent, around the fifth day of the breakup. I ceased texting him, having realised just how pathetic I was being.
It was agonísing, truly difficult, to glance at my phone and not reach out. The photograph of the two of us from our time in Russia served as my wallpaper, mocking me relentlessly. My reflection in the mirror did the same.
I was a complete méss, inside and out. I’d even stopped attending school, opting for online classes instead. Thankfully, Mariah King was none the wiser, as I was staying with Adrianna for what was meant to be a few days.
Few days have now stretched into fourteen, but it’s alright. It’s not as if I am intruding upon Julianna and Xavier’s personal space. I remain ensconced in my room, a self-imposed exile.
According to my sister and her husband, it’s not good. I haven’t seen the sun directly, nor has it cast its light upon me. Sleep seems to elude me, and when I say elude, I mean it feels galaxies away.
Every night, when I close my eyes, that fateful evening plays on repeat, like a broken record, grinding my sanity to dust. It’s as though I’m trapped in an endless loop, teetering on the brink of madnéss, suffocatiñg beneath the weight of it all.
It’s wreakiñg havóc on my psyche in every conceivable way. Perhaps that’s why Julianna barged into my room, nearly wrenching the door from its hinges, insisting that I join her out tonight.
Of course, I didn’t want to go. The thought of donning a façade, of pretending to enjoy myself when the truth was so glaringly apparent, felt utterly pointless. But, as fate would have it, I was compelled to comply.
We arrived at a place that resembled a fusion of a restaurant and bar, a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses enveloping us as we found a seat. The music blared from the speakers, a relentless assàult that churned my head and threateñed to ignite a migraine.
“Can you at least muster a smile? It’s rather depressing seeing you like this,” Julianna shouted over the din, her concern etched onto her face.
How on earth could I explain that I simply lacked the energy to smile? It felt as though my very capacity for joy had fractured. I believed every part of me was broken.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my phone light up on the table, the wallpaper—a photograph taken with him in Russia—taunting me.
It had been a snowy evening, cloaked in darkness. The photos we captured were hauntingly beautiful, flecks of snow swirling around us as the camera flash illuminated our smiles. Dex had snapped those pictures and, with a grin, declared, “Yep, this will last forever.”
How tragically mistaken he was. It didn’t last; forever was a cruél illusion. I doubt his boss even comprehends the meaning of the word. Those promises, those tender words—how could he reduce them to mere nothingness?
I felt like a pawn on his chessboard, a piece discarded without a second glance. Even chess pawns have value to their players; I’m sure they wouldn’t want them lost. But no, he didn’t care. He not only pushed me away but shatteréd my heart in the process.
Honestly, a part of me wants to scream, “Forget him! He’s not worth it!” Yet my heart and mind are at war. They sing opposing tunes, driving me to the brink of insànity. One urges me to be the brave, intelligent woman I know I am, undeterred by a man who wishes to dim my light. The other simply craves to weep endlessly until the ache in my chest finally numbs.
“Don’t you think you ought to change your wallpaper?” my best friend, Jules, inquired gingerly, as if treading on fragile ground.
“I can’t. I’m not sure I want to. I…” The floodgates began to crack open, but I would be damned if I let the tears flow in public. “I don’t want to.”
She shifted closer, rubbing my arms in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, though it only served to irritate me. I kept this to myself and allowed her to continue.
A few minutes passed in tense silence, the raucous music and thrumming bodies stinging my senses. Eventually, her rubbing ceased, and she leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Um, he’s here.”
Oh.
I knew exactly who “he” was. The very same man whose call I had been yearning for, the one who had inflicted woúnds that contradicted every promise he made.
“I think you should talk to him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Vie, you need this. Go over to him and ask the questions left unasked that night. I genuinely believe he loves you. It’s so paiñfully clear in the way he looks at you, the way he smiles every time your name is mentioned. You deserve to know why he chose to end it.”
Despite my reluctance, I realised she might be right. I needed to understand what I had done to warrant this treatment. A surge of determination replaced the despair as I pushed myself to my feet.
I scanned the room, searching for him, and eventually, there he was. Normally, I would relish the moment, taking in his outfit, the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence. But tonight felt wrong, entirely too raw for such trivialities. So, I cast aside those thoughts and dashed towards him, the urgency of the moment propelling me forward as he seemed to be in a hurry, weaving through the crowd.
The music faded into the background as I followed him, my heart pounding in my chest. We moved further away from the main bar and dance floor, and soon he was nowhere to be found.
God dàmn it!
“Dominic, what are—” a sultry voice purred before gasping, the sound slicing through my heart like a kñife.
Frowning in confusion, I followed the voice and opened the door from which it had come. My breath caught in my throat as the sight before me crystallised into a paínful reality. There he was, Dominic, locked in an embrace with another woman, their lips entwined in a way that felt and looked all too intimate.
My lungs ceased functioning, and my heart came to a standstill as I stood frozen, staring at the love of my life, lost to me in that moment, kissing someone else.
There was no denying it; it was truly over. Dominic and I were officially finished.
I couldn’t bear the weight of disbelief crushing me. My mind raced, grappling with the betrayal that lay before me. How could he? How could he toss aside everything we’d built, everything we’d promised? The laughter, the warmth, the dreams we shared—now reduced to a hollow memory, a cruél joke at my expense.
The world around me blurred, the vibrant colours of the bar fading into grey as the laughter and music melded into a distant echo. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but all I could do was stand there, a shatteréd version of myself, drowning in a sea of heartbreak.
TBC
