I wrench open the car door, collapsing into the driver’s seat and slamming it shut behind me. My hands shake as I fumble for the keys, tears streaking down my cheeks and blurring the world beyond the windshield. The car is too small, too stifling. A metal box that traps me in the moment I became someone who knows what betrayal tastes like.
But the world doesn’t care. It doesn’t stutter or pause,doesn’t tilt sideways to acknowledge that I just walked in on my future going up in smoke. The sky stays blue. The breeze keeps blowing. Somewhere, someone laughs like hearts don’t break in real time.
I start the engine and slam my foot down like the road might offer absolution. The tires screech against the asphalt, but the sound fades quickly, swallowed by the blur of the highway and the scenery whipping by in smudged streaks of green and gray. My hands are locked on the steering wheel so tightly my palms burn.
How am I supposed to walk into a classroom like this? Smile at the kids? Make small talk in the break room like I didn’t just watch my entire life detonate in my living room?
The pressure behind my eyes threatens to burst, but I keep my foot down, pushing harder on the accelerator. Maybe speed can outrun the mess clawing at my insides. Maybe if I go fast enough, I won’t have to feel it quite yet.
By the time I pull into the school parking lot, the raging wildfire of hurt fizzles down to something newly kindled. My emotions switch fromset everything on firetocongratulations, you’re just a hollowed-out human shell now.
Progress, I guess.
I cut the engine and sit there for a second, staring out at the same cracked pavement and faded parking lines, like maybe they’ll offer some kind of answer. They don’t.
Of course they don’t.
I blow out a breath and square my shoulders. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? Or at least until the final bell rings, and I can crawl into bed.
One step at a time.
The hallways are loud with the cheerful havoc of students, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. I move through the crowd like a ghost, disconnected and untouchable.It’s all just noise that attempts to drown out the echo of James’s laugh, the cruel sight of his face, and that wide-eyed panic when he noticed me.
I make my way past bulletin boards dressed for spring and the faint scent of crayons clinging to the air. My classroom door comes into view, construction paper letters spelling outMs. Miller’s Roomin a rainbow of bright and happy colors. Pausing just outside, my hand hovering over the doorknob, I take a breath. Then another. No more stalling. Time to plaster on a smile and lie through my teeth.
I turn the knob and push the door open, the familiar creak stretching down the empty hallway like it’s announcing my arrival. Here she is, folks. Emotionally unstable but still showing up to work.
The classroom is still and oddly peaceful. It won’t last long, though. I’m on borrowed time until twenty-four pairs of sneakers come thundering back from music class.
They spill through the door a little while later, their energy vibrant and carefree, unaware of the storm swirling just beneath my skin. Little feet thud against the floor as the air buzzes with the innocent mayhem of their day-to-day lives.
I paste on a smile, or, at least, I’m pretty sure it’s a smile. When one of the kids clambers up to me with a concerned expression, I question if I’ve failed at hiding my emotions entirely.
“Are you okay, Ms. Miller?”
One of my students, Lily, stands before me with her little face tipped up like I might actually have answers. Her brow is pinched and she’s frowning. It’s the kind of concerned look kids get when something feels off but they can’t quite name it. And apparently, today, thatsomethingis me.
Cue the lump in my throat.
Her voice is impossibly soft with thatgentle, unfiltered sweetness kids have before the world teaches them to keep their tenderness to themselves. It cracks something in me wide open, loosening the iron grip I’ve had around my heart since I left that godforsaken driveway.
I swallow hard and force a smile. “I’m fine,” I manage. “Just a long morning, that’s all.”
She stares at me for a second longer, but then she nods. And just like that, she skips away, ponytail swinging, already chatting with her friends like she didn’t just unknowingly throw me a life preserver.
Everything’s a mess. James, the lies, the way my life split open in the middle of a Wednesday. Except, then there’s Lily checking up on me. Proof that noteverythingbreaks your heart.
I make it through work,but the illusion of a perfect afternoon taunts me. The air is crisp, thick with the scent of blooming dogwoods and magnolias, the entire world buzzing with this relentless and almost obnoxious kind of hope. It’s everywhere, daring me to feel it.
I don’t.
So instead, I sit here in the grass, staring at the horizon, silently begging for even a sliver of peace.
I was supposed to be walking down an aisle in an overpriced dress next month, staring at the man I thought was my forever. The thought hits like a sucker punch, but the sting of it barely scrapes the surface compared to the scars I already carry. As gutting as James’s betrayal is, this isn’t my first or worst heartbreak.
I pull my knees to my chest, curling in on myself like I can make my body small enough to dodge the next wave of hurt.For a second, I almost convince myself it’s better to push the memories down and shove them back where I keep all the other things I don’t feel like dealing with.
But they’re already there. Funny thing about memories… They don’t ask for permission.
