When I heard she was about to win Songwriter of the Year, pride nearly knocked the wind out of me. That feeling overrode the ache of loss, driving me to pull every string I could to get a ticket. Nothing would keep me from witnessing the biggest moment of her career. Later, as her speech echoed in my mind, a bittersweet mix of joy and regret flooded me. I hate that my mistakes gave her the pain she needed to write Not Your Just Because, but she would have written a masterpiece without my mess.
My therapist says that sometimes things happen in the order they need to happen.
It turns my stomach to know she had to endure that kind of pain to earn her award. When I remember her pure joy as sheaccepted it, I feel a small easing of the self-loathing I carry, as if her happiness offers me a brief relief from my own guilt.
I stayed hidden because she deserved to bask in her moment, untouched by my shadow. The idea of her smile fading at the sight of me was more than I could stand.
She nearly spotted me. For a heartbeat, her eyes locked on mine, and I froze, then scrambled to disappear into the sea of people before she could be sure.
Rarely in my life have I felt jealousy as fiercely as I did that night. At first, I’d been excited to see her, but watching her on Titan’s arm when it should have been mine was a gut punch. They looked right together, and the way he watched her made it clear to everyone that his feelings remained. I told myself not to care, but envy prickled under my skin, sharp and sudden, eclipsing everything else.
At least, that’s what the jealous side of my heart was telling me.
Fuck, she was breathtaking, though.
I was a fool. I convinced myself I could keep Hayvin at arm’s length and it wouldn’t matter. I took her love for granted, and knowing that devours me. I hurt her, and now my words mean little. When I answered her questions, her disbelief punched me in the gut—a stark reminder of how deeply I let her down.
Pulling into my therapist’s parking lot, I snatch my phone and scan the call log for missed calls. Maybe she reached out, and I just didn’t hear it. It’s unlikely, but I can’t let go of that hope.
She hasn’t reached out since our last talk, and it’s tearing me apart. I get it, but the fear of losing her is suffocating.
What if that’s the last time I ever talk to her?
No, I refuse to believe that.
I have to believe I haven’t screwed up so badly that I’ve lost the only person who ever loved me without limits.
***
My knee jitters restlessly while Lionel digests the torrent of words I unleashed the moment I crossed his threshold.
Lionel rhythmically taps his pen on his notepad and regards me thoughtfully. Thoughts churn behind his eyes, and it’s inevitable he’ll share them with me soon. He always waits for me to speak first. I never realized why until my third visit, when the silence became unbearable. I questioned the value of these sessions—paying just to sit, locked in quiet eye contact. Finally, I blurted out, asking why he wasn’t doing his job. He chuckled, explaining he was waiting for me to open up. He can’t help anyone unwilling to be helped, and my silence showed I wasn't ready yet.
I needed to break the ice, so to speak.
And I didn’t just break it. I smashed it into pieces.
By the time I finished unloading every toxic thought that had been crushing me, the heaviness vanished. Suddenly, I felt light, almost buoyant. Hope crept in, more than I could ever remember feeling.
But that hope didn’t last. It faded after my conversation with Hayvin and the silence that stretched between us.
Lately, we’ve been working on where my fear comes from. I thought I had my reasoning. I thought I was scared of love, but Lionel calls bullshit. He told me that seeing what Charlie and Keaton went through could have tainted my view, but it’s not theactualreason. Lionel doesn’t even think it’s love I fear. He believes it’s deeper than that. After realizing how much I love Hayvin and how easy it was to tell heraftershe left, I think he’s right.
When we discussed how my parents essentially abandoned me as a child, leaving me with nannies who also left...
Someone who always claimed they loved me was the one who was always leaving.
It was only a matter of time before Hayvin did, too.
“At the end of our session last week, you stated it was only a matter of time. Elaborate on that,” he says.
“People always leave. If my parents couldn’t love me and wouldn’t stay, how the hell could I expect anyone else to?” I finally reply to his question.
“So, instead, you’re going to leave first.” I open my mouth to refute his statement, but he holds up his pen, letting me know he’s not finished. “Physically, you were there. You hadn’t checked out completely. Your fear of abandonment is so ingrained in you that you were self-sabotaging without realizing that’s what you were doing.”
“Why didn’t I do that with Charlie or other women before then?”
“Because they didn’t matter. Not in the sense that Hayvin does. They were never a threat. You didn’t view them as anything more than temporary. So, in your head, they were already gone. There was no reason for you to have to sabotage anything. It’s different from Hayvin.”
