“Anna—” “It’s my birthday,” I blurt out, as if that means anything now. He rubs his eyes, blinking repeatedly, as if he can’t believe this is actually happening. That I’m here. That I spoiled his plans. “It’s my birthday, and this is what you’re doing.” I will my voice to remain steady, hard. The cold weight in my hands is a reminder that I don’t have an open one to smack him across the face. “Three years wasted on you.”
literally fuck him, he's a fucking gross cheater
