I can’t believe it’s already been one day.

I even slept on the couch last night, for God’s sake! Instead of going to work this morning, I simply dragged myself to bed and collapsed there. I slept till noon, had some Thai delivered for lunch, and then crawled back to the couch. I spent the whole day laying here, watching old Friends reruns and old movies from the 90s, and I did it all with a bowl of ice-cream on my lap. Yup, that’s right, I’m turning into a living cliché.

And that’s where I am right now, staring at the screen but not really processing what’s going on in there. I mean, I don’t even know what the hell I’m watching right now.

My brain is just too busy, you know? And, despite all that busyness, I still haven’t reached a conclusion. A reasonable conclusion, I mean, since eloping with Liam to the Bahamas isn’t that reasonable. This is the classical paralysis-by-analysis situation, and you can trust me when I tell that having your life in a limbo isn’t fun. Nope, not at all.

And, to make matters, worse, Liam has already called me again - twice in the morning, and twice after lunch. I turned off flight mode earlier today, but now I already regret doing so - I’ve been avoiding his calls all the same, staring at my phone screen until it goes dark again, and that really hasn’t helped to improve my mood.

I might be hiding right now but, sooner or later, I’ll have to talk to him.

God, this isn’t like me at all. Where’s the old Cara? The one that shoots first and asks questions later? The one that always knows what to do, even when the going gets tough? Right now, I look like the sappy female lead in a romantic comedy - except, of course, there’s nothing comic about this whole thing.

Okay, okay… I know, I need to get my shit together, and I need to do it fast. Allowing this situation to drag endlessly won’t do me no good. In the end, depressed Cara won’t solve anything - what I need is to bring the old Cara back. Or, at least, try to.

Alright, screw it, it’s time for me to face the music.

Grabbing my phone, I unlock the screen and write Liam a text. I need to see you. Can you come over? I write, and then grit my teeth and force myself to press Send. A minute later, and his reply comes in: sure, will be there soon.

Kicking the blanket off me, I jump up to my feet and march straight into my bedroom. I take my pajamas off, take a long warm shower, and then squeeze myself inside a pretty decent red dress - I don’t want to look too sexy for when Liam arrives.

Yup, that’s right… I’m going to break up with him, and I’ll do it because it’s what I must do to protect my company... and because it’s also the right thing to do. As hard as it might be, in the end, it’ll be for the best. After all, I started this whole relationship under false pretenses, and Liam deserves better than that.

And so, in the end, Misty will get what she wants. But, even though I’m going to break up with him, I sure as hell won’t do it in a humiliating way. Let Misty think whatever she wants, but I’m not going to attack Liam viciously. No, I’ll just cut things off swift and painlessly - or so I hope.

“Liam, I think it’s better we go our separate ways,” I start, running the tip of my tongue over my lips as I stare into the full body mirror in my bedroom, trying to keep a straight face. “We’re not right for each other and, as fun as this was, it’s time we end this. I’m sorry, I really am,” I continue, rehearsing my breakup speech and failing miserably. Why do the words coming out of my mouth sound like the most obvious lie ever told?

“This was just fun, Liam. Harmless good fun, sure, but I don’t want anything serious. Right now I want to focus on work,” I say now, trying a new approach. Jesus, this sounds even worse.

“We’re done, Liam. You can’t be with me, and I can’t be with you. This wasn’t meant to be,” I whisper, lowering my voice as my reflection in the mirror seems to grow cold and soulless. Oh, God, am I really going to do this? The words don’t even sound right on my mouth.

Maybe… Maybe I’m afraid of telling him the truth. But how could I do that? That’d be the one thing that would break his heart for good - and, more than that, it’d make him hate me. And that’s the last thing I want, Liam’s hate. I can survive and endure his absence in my life, but I don’t think I can keep going if I know that he hates me. That’d be too much for me.

“It’s over, Liam,” I repeat once more, trying to push all that fear to the back of my mind, and that’s when I hear someone knocking at my door. “Alright, it’s showtime,” I whisper, feeling a knot in my throat, my heart hammering hard against my chest.

This is it.

Steeling my face, I pat down the front of my dress, straightening it, and then walk toward the door. I take deep breaths as I go, and then I stop right in front of the door, my hand hovering over the handle.

For a moment, I feel tempted to pretend that I’m not home, to simply ignore him until he goes away. But no, I can’t (I won’t) do that. And so, I curl my fingers around the metallic handle and push it down, the sound of the lock turning making my heart speed up even more.

This is it - and no matter how hard it is, it must be done.