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29-Breakups, Penthouses, Grey Sweatpants.

OLIVIA.

Have you experienced that intense mix of anger and sadness? It's like the weight of fury is bearing down on me, suffocating and frustrating. I have this overwhelming urge to scream, at anyone, anything, maybe even him. I want to shout until my voice gives out, just so he knows the depth of my anger. But I need to be sure he doesn't see how deeply he's hurt me. I refuse to give him that satisfaction.

My phone buzzed with a message, and I let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed by the intrusion into the protective bubble of anger I'd wrapped around myself. I straightened up as I glanced at the caller ID.

Dante: I heard about what happened. Are you okay? Do you need someone to talk to?

Me: Oh my God, who told you?

Dante: You do realize your boyfriend's my little brother, right?

Me: I'm fine.

Dante: ...

Me: He hurt me again. Completely disregarded my feelings, made me feel stupid, all in front of her.

Dante: Do you want to talk about it in person? We could grab coffee? Or hang out? O
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