"I-I'm truly sorry. . ." he stuttered in unbelieving whispers, my jaw clenched.

"No! . . . No, you're not. . ." the tears that falls on my cheek betrayed my poker face, unveiled my hurting feeling to open air.

It stung. Figuratively and literally. The slap.

I dig my fingers to my palm to keep me from shaking.
From anger for showing my weakness in front of my soon to be ex lover.

The hero of Kazakhstan running his trembling fingers through his hair, frustration clearly shown.

"You're right. I'm not sorry for slapping you-No, don't give me that look—you won't hear me, you hardly listen to reasons I was about to say and I just need to knock some sense to you. But I'm sorry for hurting yo-"

"What reason should I need to be hearing when I already saw such blatant evidence? I guess it's convenient if we just bre-"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Otabek growls, hold my already ruined shirt and push me to the wall,

"hmmph-!"

He kissed me fiercely. I could feel the anger, frustration, and . . . desperation.

I bit him.

To retaliate.

To refuse on accepting and easing those emotions of him.

"Yuratchka. . . you just bit me." he surprised. And it sounds bitter.

"Here we go, 'Mr. Stating the obvious'. It's getting boring, you know. " I replied, unkindly.

"I tried to explain it to you, but you won't believe me" his exasperation grew even bigger.

"you're cheating on me. That is a clear line. And you just crossed it." Finality spoken clearly on my cold voice.

I walked away from him after that last sentence.

vividly I hear him replied "..I'm not cheating on you"

But I don't care. I keep on walking.
My left cheek still burns from his slap, and it soothed only by my warm tears.

At that time, I realized why they call it 'fall in love'.

Because only love could bring you up that high.
And only love could hurt you that much because of the fall from its height.