This part of my story is going to involve pain, and some drama. Sorry, but love ain't a bed of roses, otherwise you would be fucking kidding yourself.

I, Eva Juliette King, confess that I am not perfect and that I do make royal fuck-ups in my relationships with people. After all, I am human, like you, and the rest of the world.

C'mon, even Michelle Obama and Ellen DeGeneres, make mistakes. Right? Maybe?

Surely, they've made mistakes.

***

I stood frozen for at least a good minute, before I slowly shuffled like a zombie from The Walking Dead to my bedroom, closing the door with one hand, while my other hand choked my mobile phone in a tight clutch.

If mobile phones were alive, mine would be dead from asphyxiation.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the photo in the message from Ingeborg. Just then, Sven opened the door and wandered into the room with a white towel loosely wrapped around his hips.

His wet, darkened, and slicked hair accentuated his high cheekbones, which flushed with a post-sex and shower glow.

"Eva, baby, what's the matter?" Sven frowned, running his fingers through his hair.

"Sven, take a look at this." My fingers trembled as I handed him my phone.

He took the phone, stared at the screen, scrolled down, and furrowed his brow.

Towering over my perched frame, he gazed at me with shards of pain flashing from his eyes. His fingers quickly loosened as I nabbed my phone from him.

"What happened, Sven?" I asked.

"Eva...She kissed me. I swear-" He looked up, and there it was. His pain and betrayal were rolled together like a cigarette ready to meet the scorching flames of a lighter.

"Why, Sven? Were you flirting with her? Is that a job requirement for being a bartender?" My eyes searched his, which were clouded with anxiety and fear.

No words came out of Sven's mouth. He stood there like a stunned mullet, frozen.

Bile worked its way up from my stomach to my throat, and I swallowed back, drawing in a deep breath of air. "Did you fight back? Or doesn't it matter? After all, a kiss is just a kiss, isn't it?"

The lyrics of "As Time Goes By" shot into my mind as I spoke those words, reminding me of Humphrey Bogart kissing Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca. I pushed that film back into drawer number forty-seven in my memory bank and moved back to drawer number nine hundred and fifty-two, where I was, sitting with Sven.

"Eva, let me explain!" Sven reached out to grab my waist, but I fought back, smacking his hands off me.

"Pack your shit and get out!" I cried as the hot tears sped down my face like narrow, fluid streams rushing with torrid pain. Sven was now in the ash heap of history, along with the Kim Jong-Un, Pol Pot, and Idi Amin.

Monday afternoon, nine days later.

"Eva, you have to take his calls. He's been wallowing like a broken sunflower in our living room, and he's driving Jonas nuts," Maddy pleaded on the phone.

"Maddy, I'm at work right now. It's not an appropriate time to talk," I coldly replied, as I swung on my swivel chair and looked out the window, observing the people walking like dots on the pavement.

"Then we'll talk later. You broke up with him over a kiss? Harsh."

"You said it. Bye, Mads." I hung up. It had been a little more than a full week since I kicked that son of a bitch out of my apartment.

My phone was bombarded with messages and emojis from Sven, which would make a unicorn want to vomit love hearts, shit rainbows, and fart glitter. However, I was not in the mood to listen to sorry excuses.

What was I thinking? Stupid love, I cursed in my mind.

Maddy revealed that Ingeborg asked for my number from an all-too-giving Jonas after he had a few too many drinks one night at the Koala Bar. The rest was history.

In the meantime, I buried myself into my work as a way of escaping the real world. While Gary was proud of my over-enthusiastic effort, he told me to go home one night, when the clock struck midnight. He was the last one on the floor-after wrapping up a conference call with our colleagues in Mexico.

He insisted that if I did not go home, he would call security to escort me out of the building. I noticed a glimmer or a twinkle in his right eye, as his mustache twitched. He revealed a modest smile in an attempt to make a small joke to lighten my dark mood.

"Eva, here's the case study you wanted for the team at Roxena Energy," an all-too-chirpy Mary announced as she arrived in my office on the Monday morning, nine days after I kicked Sven out of my apartment. She handed me an A4 sheet of printed paper.

I skimmed through the content, while scratching my hair, which was tied in a far-too-tight bun, stretching my hairline, enough to give me an instant face lift. My pants were giving me an itch on the back of my leg. I wondered if Jane forgot to use the detergent for wool and delicate clothing.

"I prefer your hair down," Mary dared to say, which provoked me to throw her a gaze that a bull would give to an annoying matador, flagging red all over.

"That's none of your business as to what I do with my hair, Mary," I curtly replied.

Today, I was in a rotten mood. Heck, all of last week I was a foul-faced Ebenezer Scrooge, ready to lash out at anyone who dared to come as close as fifteen inches near me. It didn't help that my favorite aunt Irma made her monthly visit. Aunt Irma was what I called my period, by the way.

I continued reading the document, then looked up.

"This is bullshit. Did I not ask you to edit this for me?" I glared at Mary.

"I did edit it," Mary squeaked.

"Really?" I raised my eyes and pulled a grimace.

"Really," she confirmed.

"Who wrote this? It's atrocious."

"Rhys Andrews, the technical engineer for-"

"Spare me the dets. Come with me." I sauntered out of my office, with Mary in tow, and took an elevator down to the fifth floor, to find Rhys Andrews.

I briskly walked around the maze of cubicles on the fifth floor after our awkward elevator ride, while Mary struggled to keep up, with her notebook and pen clutched to her chest.

I had my mobile phone in one hand, like a fully loaded gun, and the case study loosely flapping away in the other hand.

There he was, Rhys Andrews, in a cubicle that featured a Brisbane Lions football team sticker.

"Mr. Andrews, did you write this case study?" I slammed the paper in front of him, on his desk.

It took a few seconds for him to register that the piece of crap he was reading was his. It took another few seconds for him to look up at me and admit that it was his.

"I wrote it. Why?" Rhys stood up and towered over me with his tall, lanky frame.

"Rhys. This is shit. I have a meeting with Roxena Energy this afternoon and you seriously think I can give them this?"

"Uhm, uh, yeah. You see here, I've explained-"

"No need to explain, Rhys. I want a rewrite by two p.m. sharp!"

"But I have another meeting-"

"Clear your schedule. Tell them that I said so."

"But-"

"No buts. Gary has given me a directive with meeting objectives for our clients, including Roxena Energy. In other words, if you have a problem with me, you have a problem with Gary, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?" I smiled sweetly at Rhys.

"No, Eva. I don't have a problem," Rhys muttered, teeth clenched.

"Good. Two p.m., via email and two hard copies on my desk. No excuses."

I turned and sprinted back to the elevator, heels clicking, with Mary in tow, like a loose wheel tied around a rope.

"That's how you do it," I asserted, as Mary and I waited in the elevator, which ascended toward the top floor.

"Dr. Jekyll has left the building and Mr. Hyde is back," Mary whispered to herself.

Later, as I was packing my bag to leave the office, I sensed that someone was watching me. I looked up and saw Mary at the door.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, as my eyes traveled back to my bag, so I could focus on placing my laptop in it, and a folder with some documents for some work I would catch up on over the weekend.

"Can you please look at me for a second, Eva?"

"Sure."

My frosty, tired, hazel eyes met Mary's warm, energetic, brown eyes.

"I know you're hurting. You don't say much, but your actions speak louder than words."

"And you're Dr. Phil now?"

"Eva, please. What's going on?" Mary pleaded.

"I don't discuss my personal life at work, Mary. You should try it some time. I'm tired of listening to you talk about my brother," I replied icily.

"You know something Eva King? You have been a real cow in the past week! I have done nothing wrong to you. I've tried to be your friend. I've done everything for you!" Mary's flawless face was stained with a tear spilling from her left eye.

"Mary..."

"Eva, you're not the only one hurting. Everybody hurts. Some people just don't storm on others," she cried.

"Oh, and Rhys' case study was pretty good, by the way. We spent a lot of time perfecting it for you. But it wasn't good enough for you. Nothing ever is, is it? You know what you are? A perfectionist. Life's not perfect. Neither are you."

I stared at Mary. That girl was on fire, and I had never seen her become so alive and animated.

I may have underestimated her leadership skills and mistook her kindness as a weakness, when it was really her strength, combined with her integrity and honesty.

She had what it took to lead a team, and I could trust her to do a damn good job. In other words, Mary rarely failed to disappoint.

She then turned around and walked away. She had dinner plans with my brother and mother that night.

***

By the time Friday arrived, Sven had stopped sending messages. I checked my phone and saw no missed calls. It was six p.m. and I had knocked off from work and finished a round of drinks at a city bar with a few work colleagues, including Walt.

At times like this, I needed my roughneck friends and found comfort in crass jokes and unfiltered conversations peppered with heavy swearing. A glass of beer also helped to ease the pain.

Now that I was home, I was barefoot on the sofa, clad in my Donna Karan business shirt and my underpants. My pants were already in the laundry basket, waiting to be washed. I loosened my hair and let the rolls of chestnut curls spill down my neck and shoulders.

I scrolled through my 'favorites' in my contact list on my phone and tapped on Maddy's face. After five seconds of listening to the dial tone, she picked up the phone.

"Yo, what's up?"

"Where's Sven?" My heart raced as I waited for a response.

"He's working tonight at the Koala Bar."

"Oh."

"Eva, is everything okay?"

"I need to get drunk, high, anything. I need to feel alive again."

"You miss him. He misses you too."

"Fuck. Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Come on, girl. I'm coming over, and we'll go out tonight. Just us two girls, okay?"

"I love you, man."

"I love you too, angel. I'll see you soon."

Friends like Maddy made my heart soar above the clouds of sadness, and straight up to the sunshine.

Let's hope that my Icarus heart doesn't fly too close to the sun, or it would end up scorched, before tumbling down the melancholy sky and falling into the tempestuous sea of despair.

A/N: Have you ever been lied to? Have you ever tasted the fruit of pain? It sucks, but our hearts and heads must remain strong. Make your tomorrow a better day. With or without him/her. Apparently, the guy in the gif is supposed to be Zayn Malik. I guess he's experienced heart pain before. 💪