JAJAJAJA. Mi ex, con quien salí durante 3 meses hace 7 años y medio, subió una publicación

LOL. My ex, whom I dated for three months seven and a half years ago, posted a picture of his wedding. If he drinks, we all know you're doing it to make me jealous… Get over me already. The music was so loud my teeth were rattling, but I still felt the shock when they looked at me like I was some kind of logistical mistake. The whole hall smelled of expensive flowers and unfulfilled promises, and yet all I saw was his face tensing up when he recognized me. I'd arrived just in time for the toast, and yet, somehow, it felt like I was arriving late to my own story. Adrián and I weren't "a fling," we were a watermark in his life, even though people love to pretend that intensity fades with time. I met him at a summer festival, one of those where everyone thinks they're an artist for a weekend and the air smells of mango, beer, and impulsive decisions. He was the kind of man who seemed calm, but had the look of someone who held back for fear of feeling too much. I, on the other hand, have always been more honest with my impulses than most people are with their wedding vows. When we kissed for the first time, it wasn't "nice," it was inevitable, like when a song finds you before you look for it. Our story lasted three months, yes, but three real months, not those long years of a relationship sustained by habit and shared expenses. With Adrián, everything was fast, electric, as if the world were rushing to see us together before we parted. He had a way of laughing that would burst out suddenly, as if he were ashamed of being happy, and I became an expert at making him laugh. We saw each other when we could, and when we couldn't, we wrote to each other as if the conversation were an invisible thread that kept us bound together. There was an intensity that can't be explained with logic, and that's precisely what simple people never understand: not everything is measured in time, some things are measured in impact. After the festival, life went on with its charade of "growing up," "moving on," "closing chapters," as if chapters close simply because we decree them to. Adrián went his own way, I went mine, and yet, every now and then, the universe left crumbs to remind me that what we had hadn't been an accident. 0:00 Main Story 8:23 Main Story Comments 9:26 Update 1 18:07 Update 1 Comments 19:00 Update 2 27:37 Update 2 Comments 28:33 Update 3 34:58 Update 3 Comments 35:52 Update 4