Her voice was tense. I'm calling because Sarah asked me to. I figured. She's really messed up. She's not eating.
She's not sleeping. She's I know. You're being a child. Mia said, her voice sharpening. She needs you.
You can't just She had me for 4 years. She didn't want me. She can't have me back. That's not That's not cruelty. That's consequences.
Mia sighed. Look, I know she hurt you. I know she messed up. But people make mistakes. You can't just Did you know Mia was silent?
Did you know she was seeing someone else? Did you know she was going to leave? More silence. You did, didn't you? You knew.
And you didn't tell me. That's not I mean I You helped her. You covered for her. You were complicit. It wasn't my place.
It was your place when you ate my food and slept on my couch. It was your place when you called me brother and told me I was good for her. It was your place to tell me the truth. Mia was crying now. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. I don't need your apology. I need you to stop calling me. Both of you. I hung up.
Then the social media post started. Sarah posted a crying video. Her face was puffy, her eyes red, her voice shaky. "I never thought I'd be here," she said, staring at the camera. "I never thought I'd be alone, but sometimes the person you love the most can turn their back on you when you need them most.
And it hurts. It hurts so much. " The comments flooded in. Sympathy, support, people telling her she deserved better. Then someone commented, "Didn't you leave him for someone else?
" The comment got liked a lot. More comments followed. I heard she cheated. I heard she left him for some guy. I heard she told him she was meeting someone more exciting.
The narrative shifted. People started asking questions. Then they started sharing what they knew. Sarah deleted the video, but the damage was done. She showed up at my work the next day.
I was walking out to my car when I saw her leaning against the hood, arms crossed, eyes swollen. She looked terrible. unwashed hair, wrinkled clothes, hollow cheeks. "Hi," she said quietly. I stopped a few feet away. "You can't be here.
I know. I just I needed to see you. You've seen me. You need to leave. " She started crying.
"I made a mistake. I know I made a mistake. I was stupid and selfish and I hurt you and I'm so sorry. I didn't say anything. I love you," she whispered.
"I always have. I was just scared. I was scared of how much I loved you and I pushed you away because I didn't know how to handle it. You told me you were meeting someone more exciting. You laughed at me.
I know. I know. But I didn't mean it. It was just words. It was just words matter.
Your words matter. And so do your choices. She collapsed to her knees on the pavement. Please, please, I'll do anything. I'll go to therapy.
I'll get help. I'll change. Just please don't leave me like this. I looked at her. really looked at her and felt nothing. No anger, no pity, no love, just emptiness.
She was a stranger, a ghost, a person I used to know. "You need to leave," I said quietly. "And you need to stop contacting me. But I'm not your backup plan. I'm not your safety net.
I'm not the person you come back to when the exciting guy doesn't work out. I love you. " No, you love the idea of me. You love having someone who is always there, always patient, always forgiving. But you don't love me.
You never did. She sobbed. That's not true. It is, and you know it. I turned and walked to my car.
She called after me, my name over and over, her voice breaking. I didn't look back. I got in, started the engine, drove away, and for the first time in weeks, I felt nothing. Not pain, not regret, not even satisfaction, just nothing. She was gone and so was the person I used to be.
3 days later, she showed up at my apartment. I don't know how she found the address. My brother thinks Mia told her. I don't care anymore. I was sitting on my couch reading when I heard the knock.
I knew who it was before I opened the door. I don't know how. Maybe it was the way the knock sounded, desperate and trembling. Maybe it was just a feeling. I opened the door.
She was standing there and she looked destroyed. Not the kind of destroyed that comes from a bad night. The kind that comes from weeks of bad decisions, of spiraling, of losing everything. Her eyes were red, her face was puffy, her hair was stringy and unwashed. She was wearing clothes I didn't recognize, maybe borrowed, maybe from a thrift store.
She looked smaller than I remembered. "" "Hi," she whispered. "I didn't say anything. I just stood there leaning against the door frame. Can I come in, please? " No, she flinched.
I know I shouldn't be here. I know you don't want to see me, but I didn't know where else to go. That's not my problem. I know. She started crying.
I know. I know. I'm not asking you to fix it. I'm just I just need to talk to you. Just once.
Just 5 minutes. I crossed my arms. You have 5 minutes. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I made a huge mistake.
The biggest mistake of my life. I was selfish and I was cruel and I hurt the only person who ever really loved me. I didn't respond. I know I can't undo it. I know I can't take back what I said, but I need you to know that I regret it.
Every single day, every single hour, I regret it so much it hurts. She paused, waiting for me to say something. I didn't. That night, the night I left, I didn't go meet anyone. I raised an eyebrow.
I mean, I did. I went to meet Derek, but nothing happened. I just I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted to feel exciting. And I thought if I could make you jealous, you'd fight for me.
You'd show me you cared. You told me we were basically over. I know. I know. But I didn't mean it.
I was testing you. I wanted you to prove me wrong. I shook my head. That's not love. That's manipulation.
I know. She was sobbing now. I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
You're sorry because you're alone. You're sorry because Derek used you and dumped you. You're sorry because your friends abandoned you and your family gave up and you're sleeping in your car. You're not sorry because you hurt me. You're sorry because you're paying the price.
She looked at me and for a moment something flickered in her eyes. Anger. Resentment. The same look she'd given me when I refused to fight for her. When I refused to beg.
When I refused to be the person she could push around. That's not fair, she said, her voice hardening. It's not fair. You told me you were meeting someone more exciting. You laughed at me.
You said we were basically over. You walked out the door without looking back. And now you want me to feel sorry for you. I said I was sorry. You said you were sorry because you got caught.
Because your life fell apart. Because the exciting guy didn't want you, not because you actually regret hurting me. She wiped her eyes and straightened up. The crying was slowing. The desperation was shifting into something else, something colder.