A Toast To Your Eyes

Scarlett has endured the heartbreak of losing her beloved six times, each time to the same close friend. Despite the pain, she continues to trust and pardon the friend’s sorrowful yet poetic justifications. “Everything I did was for you, Scarlett,” the friend insists, weaving words that sound both tender and tragic. “Didn’t you always claim that if a man could be stolen so easily, he was never truly yours to begin with?” These hollow reassurances linger in the air, masking betrayal with a veneer of devotion. Scarlett clings to them, finding solace in the twisted logic that softens the sting of betrayal. The cycle repeats—loss, forgiveness, and the quiet erosion of her self-worth. Each time, she raises a glass to her own suffering, toasting the illusion of loyalty. The friend’s words, though laced with pity, become a bittersweet refrain in Scarlett’s life. She wonders if love is merely a test of endurance, a game where the rules are written in shifting sands. Yet she stays, trapped in the echo of promises that dissolve like mist at dawn.