First Rule (A Flash Fiction)
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“Here, just sit down. The steak will be ready in a minute.” I forgot about the tears rushing to my cheeks. I needed to serve the food, immediately.

“Katie…” His voice was so rich and deep, it cut my heart until it would not close with stitching.

“Would you like some red wine? Wait,” I grabbed the red wine from the counter, but my foot slipped as I walked to the table. I steadied myself, but unhinged my hold from the bottle. It went under and it shattered into smaller pieces under my feet. Some shards struck my feet, but it did not hurt. I did not care if my blood and cuts were mixed with the delicious red wine.

“Shit.” He muttered as he walked to me.

“No, no! I’m fine, I’m fine.” I said as I snatched a cloth from the sink. I was about to dry the floor with it when I felt his hand clutched my own.

I looked up at him as he said, “What was our first rule, Katie?” Rasp crawled in his voice—a sign of defeat.

Nobody would fall.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The moment he gave me his wedding invitation, I already and quietly crumbled inside. I let him used me, all this time, thinking that he could give the same to me. Hell, I thought wrong.

“Dinner. Just dinner. Stay with me this dinner; just this one, please.” I whispered, not brushing any tears.

I could not see if he nodded. The sizzling sound of the steak was forgotten; the shards were not remembered, but everything else vibrated—signifying pain and ache.

I gripped his hand with my two hands, trying to make the pain fade and just savor the moment of death.


Thank you for reading this story. I hope you’ll read a lot from me. If you ever feel the need to give me some writing advice, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

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