I catch Arthur staring at the pretty blonde again, and picking up my glass from the table, I flop back against the couch.
— Does he like her?
Honestly, the girl is very beautiful. Sitting on a high bar stool, she stirs her cocktail with a straw and from time to time glances at our table.
— Tasya, remember what we agreed on? he asks, leaning toward me across the table.
— Everything is still in effect, right?..
— Right.
I push it out of myself, feeling something inside me break with a crunch.
— Exactly?
— Exactly.
Holding my gaze, he silently nods. And I don’t know where to find the strength to endure it. It hurts—sharp in my chest, and there’s ringing in my ears.
— Yes, I like her. I want her.
At the beginning of our relationship, I agreed to this myself. Arthur couldn’t offer me anything serious. I understood that and accepted his proposal, but apparently I miscalculated my strength.