It all started with a broken heart and a bottle of cheap red wine.

Friday night. Two bottles in. One breakup deep. Spotify blasting sad-girl anthems.

Let me explain you what exactly happened 5 hours ago.

My best friend Kia and I were on a mission: to buy each and every prettiest thing to buy today.

"Ugh, my arms are killing me," Kia complained, adjusting the straps of her tote bag and the handles of a couple of paper shopping bags. "We've been at this for hours. How about a coffee break?"

I was just about to agree when I saw it. Tucked between a dusty old furniture store and a neon-lit barbershop was a tiny, cluttered antique shop. A sign swinging precariously above the door read, "The Curious Curio."

"Hold on," I said, pointing. "Look at that place. It looks so... spooky

"Hey, what's with the antique shop?" Kia asked, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at a dusty storefront.

"I don't know," I said, squinting through the smudged glass. "But it looks interesting. C'mon, let's go check it out."

"You're not serious, are you?" Kia groaned, but I was already making my way across the sidewalk, the bags in my hands feeling suddenly lighter.

The moment we stepped inside, we were hit by the smell of old books, dried herbs, and a faint, musty scent I couldn't place. The shop was a labyrinth of forgotten things. My eyes scanned the cluttered shelves, and that's when I saw it—a leather-bound book with a strange, intricate symbol on its cover. The tag simply said, "Grimoire." A book of spells. I felt a weird mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Look at this," I said to Kia, holding it up. "A grimoire. We should get it. It'll be hilarious."

Kia giggled. "You're so weird. But fine, let's get it. Maybe we can summon a demon to do our laundry."

I brought it to the front counter where a gaunt, old man with a long white beard sat behind a stack of books. "Excuse me," I said, holding up the grimoire. "What can you tell me about this?"

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "That's not for sale, miss. It's... personal."

"Oh, come on," I persisted, "I've never seen anything like it. I'd love to buy it. I collect old books, and this is just so unique."

He studied my face for a long moment, a conflicted look in his eyes. He sighed, a low, weary sound. "Very well. But know this: some things are not meant to be opened, even for a laugh." He named a price, and I paid him without a second thought.

As we walked back out onto the busy street, I was still grinning, the heavy grimoire clutched in my hands like a strange treasure. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, dark shadows.

That's when my eyes landed on a familiar figure standing under a streetlamp. Mike, my boyfriend. His arm wrapped around another girl. She was laughing, her head thrown back, and then he leaned in and kissed her. My heart shattered into a million pieces, a soundless explosion that echoed in my chest. The grimoire felt impossibly heavy now, its joke-like charm replaced by a crushing reality.

I couldn't speak. I could only stare at the scene, the two of them a perfect, sickening tableau of betrayal. The girl, with her long, dark hair and bright smile, was holding his hand, twining her fingers through his.

"Mike!" I shouted, the word torn from my throat.

He pulled away from her, his head snapping up. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by pure shock. "Hazel... what are you doing here?"

I dropped all the shopping bags, but I held the grimoire tight. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" My voice trembled with rage and hurt. "Is this her? Is this the girl you've been lying to me about?"

"Hazel, it's not what it looks like," he stammered, stepping toward me.

The other girl stared at me with wide, confused eyes.

"Don't lie to me again!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face. "I saw you! I saw you kissing her! We're done, Mike. We are so completely done."

I turned on my heel, leaving him and the other girl standing frozen under the lamppost. I didn't wait for him to respond. I just walked, the grimoire tucked under my arm, its leather cover a strange comfort against my shaking hand.

Kia grabbed my arm, pulling me away, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. He looked so happy. So in love. And it wasn't with me. My world crumbled around me. The only magic I felt was a crushing, unbearable ache.

I asked Kia that I wanted to be alone, first she insist that she is coming with me but then she agreed,

I didn't even notice when Kia was gone. I just needed to get home, to be alone. I stopped at a liquor store on the way and grabbed two bottles of wine.

By the time I unlocked my apartment door, the sun was completely gone. I set the bottles on the kitchen counter, kicked off my shoes, and went to my room. I placed the grimoire on my nightstand, the only thing from that day that felt real. I had come home alone, with only an old book and a new emptiness in my chest. The joke was no longer funny.