Two days later, everyone knew.
Not just about the confession — about the two-timing too. Things that had stayed quiet for months somehow found their way out all at once. My current girlfriend heard. I told her it was true but that I was different now. She didn't break up with me, at least not yet.
I went to her and asked if she'd said something.
She had. She'd told her friends. And then it had spread, the way things do.
Then she said something I've replayed more times than I should admit.
She told me I wasn't worth anyone.
She'd heard me bragging. She'd seen the worst version of me — the two-timing, the carelessness, the reputation I'd built without thinking about what it would cost me. She wasn't wrong. None of it was a lie.
But knowing she was right made it worse, not better.