3 Headlines, anger

After a long flight and a night of overindulging in alcoholic beverages, I stumbled into my hotel room. The world spun around me as I collapsed onto the bed, the digital clock on the nightstand flashing 4 AM before darkness claimed me.

The next thing I knew, a loud banging shattered the silence of the room. I groaned, my head pounding mercilessly as I struggled to open my eyes against the too-bright light filtering through the curtains. Squinting, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand—it was 1 PM. I had slept through the entire morning.

With a heavy sigh, I stumbled towards the door, my head still swimming from the remnants of last night's drinks. As I opened the door, a sweet old lady greeted me with a professional smile.

"Room service," she announced, pushing a tray of food into the room. Her expression was a polite mask of efficiency as she left the tray and departed.

Feeling groggy and disoriented, I realized that I desperately needed to wake myself up. Without hesitation, I headed straight for the bathroom and turned on the cold water, letting it jolt me awake as I took a quick shower.

Stepping out, I glanced at the clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor. They were a wrinkled mess, clearly showing the aftermath of my hasty departure from the previous night's festivities.

Remembering that there was a luxury department store next to the hotel, I made a decision. Despite my disheveled appearance in the hotel robe, I ventured down to the store. This was a 5-star hotel, after all, and the staff maintained their professionalism flawlessly. They merely smiled politely at me as I browsed through the pristine displays, hoping to find something to salvage my appearance.

Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the luxury department store transformed. Adorned in light pink slacks and a pastel pink cropped tank top that hugged my neck, I topped it all off with an over-the-top white fur coat. My makeup was equally extravagant, with bold colors and dramatic contouring. Standing in front of the store's mirror, I snapped a picture for my social media—perfect.

Feeling a surge of defiance and confidence, I grabbed the complimentary bottle of wine and took a swig straight from the bottle before swaggering out of the store. I had spent an outrageous amount on my new outfit, but today was about indulgence.

Summoning a car from the hotel, I directed the driver to take me to the church where Jackson's wedding was to take place. As the car sped through the streets, I ignored the buzzing of my phone—Emily's calls. Today, I didn't need her voice of reason. Instead, I made a quick phone call to a contact I knew could stir up some trouble.

"Ivan to what do I owe the pleasure," a man's voice answered eagerly.

"I have a big scoop for you. Send your best paparazzi to this location," I said, cutting to the chase and sending him the address. Another swig of wine from the bottle in my hand and I leaned back in my seat, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

Arriving at the venue, I instructed the driver to wait for me. This wouldn't take long. With a mischievous grin, I realized the car I had chosen was rather expensive. Oh well, it was fitting for the occasion.

Stepping out of the car, I took in the sight of the cute Catholic church. How pretentious, I thought with a smirk, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the chaos I was about to unleash.

Taking another bold swig from the bottle of wine, I marched into the closed church with purpose. The heavy doors slammed open behind me, the noise echoing through the sacred space. Incredulous eyes turned towards me, and I relished the shock on their faces. My gaze locked onto Jackson, who looked utterly panicked. Good, let him feel the panic.

"Why the silence?" I announced loudly, my voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere like a knife.

"I mean, I'm here to congratulate my buddyJackson here." Each step I took seemed to reverberate through the silent church, my soft footsteps somehow sounding unusually loud in the stillness. With a dramatic flourish, I took another swig from the bottle, the liquid burning down my throat.

Turning fully to face Jackson, I narrowed my eyes at him. "My, my, my, Jack. You didn't honestly expect me to just accept your little happily ever after, did you?"

The bitterness and anger dripped from my words, each syllable laced with the hurt and betrayal I had endured.

As I spoke, I couldn't help but notice the flash of phone screens recording the unfolding drama. A smirk tugged at my lips as I decided to make this moment count.

"Everyone in attendance today," I declared loudly,my voice carrying to every corner of the church,

"I'm here to tell you something interesting." With a theatrical twirl, I drew the attention of the entire congregation.

My eyes landed on a woman who looked strikingly familiar-it was Mama Jack, Jackson's mother. The realization only fueled my determination as I continued to speak, my voice ringing out with authority and defiance in the stunned silence of the

church.

"Did you know that the man infront of you, is a faggot!" I say with a laugh, and I'm met with gasps and mama Jack stands

"You-!!!" She starts. I cut her off.

"Hush now, ex-mother in law I'm still speaking." I say, dismissing her.

Filled with anger I throw my bottle of wine at the couple standing at the center of the church. It shatters into a thousand pieces, the red wine splashing onto the bride's beautiful dress, the groom, priest and some front row guests.

Gasps and screams ring out, at my little display.

"Oh shut it." I snap dismissively at their startled reactions.

"I'll pay for the damages." My voice laced with bitter sarcasm and eyeing Jackson I continue, "Look at their reactions Jackson. Is money going to fix it? Hell no." I mocked, with a cruel grin twisting my lips.

Jackson waves for security, I quickly wave my phone in the air.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jackson."

With a few taps on my phone, a sound of erotic sucking sounds fill the silent church.

"You wouldn't want people to see you being involved in such activities now?"

There's a series of horrified gasps, and his mother collapses, what a satisfying scene.

"You wouldn't." Jackson warns me his voice a mixture of anger and desperation.

"Dare me." I challenged, meeting his gaze daring him to try me, and I would do it too, I'm not very particular about my reputation like he is. He motions for the security to get back, success.

"What do you want Ivan?" Jackson demanded through gritted teeth, the tension palpable in the air.

"Nothing, really. I wouldn't get back with you even if you begged me right now," I retorted my voice dripping with scorn.

Turning to the guests gathered, I raise my voice for all to hear.

"Look at this upstart millionaire, everyone!" I declared, pointing at Jackson. "You think they'd be him? Without me? Hilarious."

A derisive laugh escapes me.

"You- !You-" Jackson's father started, his voice filled with outrage as he tended to his collapsed wife. I couldn't help but snort in amusement at their reactions.

"Dear wittle Jackson," I began, the sarcasm dripping from my words. "He left his dilapidated hometown because he didn't want to inherit your stinky ranch, you know. He came to university smart and full of dreams. You told him to leave and you'd cut him off, and he did leave. And look at him now—a millionaire son instead of a stinky ranch owner. Thanks to who though?" I left the question hanging in the air, my tone sharp and accusatory.

"One thing dear Jackson left out of his biography, though, was his naive little boyfriend who practically brought him to this level," I continued, my anger boiling beneath the surface. "Jackson couldn't afford three meals a day until I came into the picture." The bitterness seeped into my voice as I recounted the sacrifices I had made.

"I was merely twenty years old too, but guess what? I bought him meals. I bought him his first suit. I worked myself to the bone to give him living expenses. I got him his first apartment—me!" Each word was a dagger of betrayal as I listed the ways I had supported him. "I got him his first laptop. I fucking paid for his tuition to get his computer science degree. I got him his first bloody car!" The intensity in my voice grew as I recounted the lengths I had gone to for him.

"I worked to the bone, I barely slept, all for him!" I screamed, the anger and hurt pouring out of me in waves. "I got him his first internship. I worked myself to the bone with gigs, fashion shows, I even sold my own fucking dignity to get brand deals to come up with three million dollars to get his stupid app running!" The words echoed through the once-silent church, the weight of my anger and hurt ringing through the air.

"I did it because I loved this son of a bitch," I spat out bitterly,

"I did it happily, because it was for the man I loved. The man who albeit mediocre in bed, always said the best things."

In a mocking voice I continued, voice dripping with sarcasm and dramatic theatrics. " 'Oh Ivan, I love you so much.' , 'Ivan, you mean the world to me.' , 'I want to start a family with you Ivan.' , ' You're all I need Ivan'." I repeated words that once got me giddy with joy that are now nothing but a mockery of what I thought we had.

" You think over a decade I spent on you would be fine with a cheque? A CHEQUE?" I scoffed my anger rising once more.

" 'Hey here's approximately all the money you spent on me, but I'm going to marry a sad, female copy of you and live happily ever after.' Really? " The absurdity of it made my blood boil.

"Are you fucking insane Ivan? What about my emotional investment? My time? Hell you're telling me I endured your 4 thrusts and you cum for nothing? In our plans, WE should be getting married now."

Running my hands through my hair in frustration, I couldn't help but shake my head. "You want a child? The fuck do you think this is, the 1800s? We could have had a surrogate or something. Easy," I muttered, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me.

Sighing deeply, my anger deflated into a sense of resignation. "I don't get it, Jackson. I don't," I said, my voice filled with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Do you think your pretty bride would be with you if you didn't have this money? You want your parents' approval? The same parents who undermined your dreams and weren't there for you when you needed them the most? The approval of these folks?" I gestured to the shocked guests, the irony not lost on me.

"It wouldn't have been perfect, Jackson, but I would have done everything in my power to make you happy," I admitted, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders.

Taking one last look around the church, I felt a surge of bitterness and resentment. "This is the life you want? Go ahead. Fuck it. Fuck you," I spat out, my voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "I want to say I wish you the best, but I wish you a miserable life." With those final words hanging in the air, I turned and walked out of the church.