Silent

Well, obviously, after a certain amount of time, I couldn't  think of anything to say. I just stood mute, looking about, with a slight shiver from time to time showing I was still alive. She came then and burst with scornful laughter, meant I thought to be the conspicuous proof of her satisfaction upon what I was up to by now.
Here! She went. We don't talk much each other but there's one thing I'm sure about. (She somewhat paused here). You've never been too careful who you trusted. But hey! I can't blame you. After all, you trusted me.
She was fucking right. Ten years have been passing through and yet she was still unknown to me.
What are you trying to tell me, I said. She remained silent a moment, then said bluntly 'I'm seeing someone else.'
'Who?'
'You don't know'
'Tell me who the fucking bastard is'
'A French bloke, he's thousand times more interesting than you, he's nice to me ; but does it matter telling, as long as you've never been any use whatsoever?'
'WHO-IS-IT?'
'Right... Bernard Menez.'
'...who ?
'Told you you'd never have a clue...'
There I was then, hollow, fucked up, with my inspiration dumping me for some measly silly-voiced French actor. Who dealt?