The knot in my stomach has mostly subsided, but a slight twinge reminds me it’s still there.
My stomach growls, and laughter sounds from both of us.
“Guess it’s time to cook dinner,” Jude says.
I swallow—hard. He is my safe space, my comfort, and I don’t want to move. With a sigh, I reach for my clothes, slipping on my dress while he rakes a hand through his messy hair. Neither of us speak as we move toward the kitchen, our footsteps quiet against the wooden floor.
My mind races. Tension lingers in the air, mingling with silence, as Jude cooks. We usually talk about our day, but not tonight. Something feels off about him, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. The cross-country move is probably weighing on him. We need to figure out how to make this long-distance relationship work…We’re just avoiding talking about it.
I wish we could just go together. Life seems cruel—separating us—although I know I’m lucky, too. I have a full ride to my top-choice college, so upending my dreams isn’t the answer either.
I know our love is strong, and we can find a way. It’s only for a year, but there’s still a suffocating doubt in the air. My heart sinks as I think about Jude so far away, not being able to hold him, nestle my face in his chest, or kiss him whenever I want. It doesn’t take much thinking for me to slump in the chair.
Ugh, this is awful.
I cross my arms over my chest as a chill rolls through me.
My mouth waters when I get a whiff of teriyaki sauce and rice, and I lift my eyes to glance at Jude. He’s scooping the stir-fry into bowls, then he swipes the chopsticks off the counter and sets our bowls down.
“Is everything ok?” I ask.
With hesitation, he says, “This may feel like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few days.” He pauses and draws in a deep breath. “I’m not sure a long-distance relationship makes sense for us.”
Nausea rises in my throat as my world spins. He doesn’t want to move forward with our relationship? Well, that explains the distance I’m feeling.
Where did this come from?
It’s like I’ve been slapped, and for a moment, I’m stunned speechless as I stare into his amber eyes.
“Jude, what are you saying? You want to break up?” I ask, as a lone tear rolls down my cheek.
This can’t be happening; it’s my worst nightmare. He wants to break up, move on, and never look back. Jude and I have something special. We’re in sync about things that matter to both of us. I’m ready to make a long-distance relationship work, no matter what it takes. But I can’t do it for both of us; he has to be on board, too. Why is he second-guessing things now?
“Is this what you want?” I ask, touching his forearm, silently begging him to feel our connection.
“I think it will be stressful. We’re going to be thousands of miles away from each other, and it will be a lot of pressure. I won’t have a lot of downtime to stay in touch. It doesn’t seem fair to you.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I know, and that’s why we agreed that, yes, it’ll be difficult, but why not try? You’re ripping the rug out from under me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just feel like this is what I have to do. For both of us.”
He’s rigid in his seat. I know him. He isn’t budging on this. For the life of me, I don’t know why he changed his mind.
“That’s it, no discussion? We just do what you want?”
I take off the ring. Those promises he made clearly don’t mean anything. I try to hold in my emotions as I set it down with a trembling hand.
“No, Faith. Please keep it,” he begs, trying to console me.
I shrug off his arm. “Don’t touch me. You’ve lost that right.”
My feet instinctively lead me to the door, and I glance back at him to say, “Jude, there are no more promises to keep.”
I stomp straight to my car, fling open the car door, and throw myself in the seat. My tears fall uncontrollably, but I need to get away from him. I can’t just sit in his driveway. As I leave, I notice him standing in his doorway. The sight of him makes me cry even harder.
How could he, after all this time, not even fight for us? He didn’t even give us a chance.
Once I get home, I slam the car into park and run inside to my room. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make me feel any better, because this room is a shrine for our relationship. I have pictures everywhere—some are in frames, others are on a corkboard with a thumbtack. I scan my sacred space, and I see all the gifts he’s given to me. Not to mention all the dried flowers from dances we’ve gone to, concert tickets, stuffed animals…
