She signed the text “Miss ya,” as in “Hi ya” or “How ya doing buddy?” She sighed at herself and hoped it sounded more convincing to him than it did to her.
The situation didn’t make much sense. Sometimes people talk about their relationships like they think that it must be super mysterious and magical from the outside looking in. In actuality, for most couples it is perfectly sensical – you like each other, hence you’re together. Cut and dry.
This case didn’t fit that mould. It was, “we like each other, but we must stick to our plans.” If you like someone it should be far easier than this had become.
The end result (for this chapter, anyway) was to say goodbye in the dark Paris morning and watch the man who’d mad her so happy for the last 7 months fade away into the murky pre-dawn.
No plans to see each other again, no promises of visits in the future. No promises. Period… unless you could the “we’ll still be friends” thing, which seemed to be of little comfort at the current moment.
She could feel the hole in her chest. A part of her was slightly surprised when she looked in the mirror and couldn’t see right through herself.
How? How? How? was all that seemed to run through her head. How can you develop this kind of friendship and physical relationship and just leave it?
She supposed she knew. he’d had his plans of world adventure long before they met, so asking him to change would surely chase him away just as quickly as the girl who brings up marriage in the first month. It was a line that simply could not be crossed.
Swallowing the pill acknowledging that morning could be the last she ever saw him hadn’t happened yet, let alone digesting the pill.
The only thing that was certain was she would not be seeing him for 8 months or more. She had to find a way to not become a wreck. She needed to hide the hole that had developed and soldier on. Sending texts and emails going into any detail about how she was feeling or how much she missed him wouldn’t win her any points. Chin up girl.