I never saw it coming.
I stare at the screen trying to think of what to say that might make him feel better. But for once, I can’t find a joke.
How long were you together?
A year.
Consider it a blessing. Better now than later.
Guess you’re right.
I’m absolutely right. People can be selfish assholes. That’s not your burden.
Speaking from experience?
Sort of. Different situation.
Different how?
Just... different.
In the hours that we text, we don’t say everything. But we say enough. He asks about me, but doesn’t push. And I don’t explain. My life is mine. Messy, unfinished, and not for tonight.
I failed.
The word slams into me. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just…familiar.
Because yeah, I know that feeling.
Of trying so hard to hold it all together—career, grief, expectations—only to watch it crumble in your hands anyway.
Of chasing wins that never come.
Of being the girl who used to sparkle and now can’t even land a pitch.
Of wondering if the people you lost would still be proud of you if they could see you now.
Fail.
That word sticks to everything lately. And seeing it typed out like that—from a stranger who feels just cracked and broken as I do—makes it harder to pretend I’m fine.
You didn’t. She did.
Easier said than felt.
I get it. But you’ll feel better once you take out the trash. Marie Kondo her ass.
Who?
Never mind. Just declutter your life. Starting with her.
Her? Done. Him? Complicated.
I work with him.
Oh, plot twist.
Yeah.
