Page 66 of Shattered Dreams
That afternoon,the world continues to cave in around me.
My agent calls. Again.
“Roman, you’ve got reporters camped out at your gym. Paparazzi took photos of you walking out. You looked like shit, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“They want a statement. Something apologetic. Something contrite.”
“I’m not giving them anything.”
He groans. “Roman?—”
“I said no.”
He hangs up.
My phone buzzes again. This time from a former teammate.
Yo, what the fuck, man? They’re saying you beat the shit out of that guy for no reason. Ava’s gone psycho. You're trending for all the wrong reasons.
I stare at the message and delete it.
No one fucking understands.
I didn’t hit him forno reason. I hit him because he was touchingmy wife.
Even if she’s not really mine anymore.
I go for a run,trying to outrun the noise in my head, but it follows me. The chants. The headlines. The photos. The image imprinted in my fucking mind of her kissing him. The knowledge that she’s out there rebuilding her life, and I’m fucking drowning.
When I get back, my legs are lead and my lungs are raw.
Ava is in the living room, watching Poppy’s favourite cartoon. She doesn’t look at me or acknowledge the sweat dripping from my jaw or the look of absolute devastation on my face.
She just picks up the remote and adjusts the volume so Poppy can hear better.
I go upstairs and scream into a pillow until my voice goes hoarse.
That night,I sit on the floor outside her bedroom door like a goddamn dog.
I don’t knock or say a word. I just sit there.
Because I have nothing else left.
And I’m hoping—praying—that maybe, somehow, she’ll remember who I used to be.
Across town,Annie posts a story trying to cry again. Her mascara runs too perfectly. The comments light up with more venom.
Take some accountability.
So you’re only sorry because you got caught?
Enjoy irrelevance.
Another brand drops her. Then another. A story leaks that she’s been evicted from her luxury rental.
She posts a long caption about healing and growth and boundaries, but the comments don’t believe her.
