Worst Decision

Grace

When I wake up the next morning, Tristin is already gone. There is no trace of him left in my apartment, other than his lingering cologne.

For some reason, it makes me sad. He could have stayed to say goodbye, or at least left a note but there is nothing.

I sulk in the shower, in the kitchen as I prepare my coffee, and in the lounge as I flip through different channels.

It’s the weekend and I don’t have anything to do. Maybe, I should call Celine and see what she is doing today.

I ponder over it for a while before I pick up my phone and open the messaging app. But, my fingers freeze on my screen when I see a new message from an unknown number.

—You look beautiful when you sleep, Little Butterfly.

An unconscious smile touches my lips. An image is attached under the message.

As the picture loads, my eyes narrow into slits. Asshole! I huff.

It’s me, in bed, pouting, and my hair all over the place. Does this look beautiful to Tristin?

As my fingers move across the keyboard typing