The phone blurred. The countertop tilted. My other hand curled in the hem of my shirt, twisting until the seams protested, searching for something to pull on that wasn’t my own skin.
My thoughts scattered, then reassembled in sharper lines. If I kept talking, I would say too much. If I said too much, he would see all of it. The cracks, the rot, the frantic mess.
I could stop this. Right now.
My thumbs moved before the rest of me could vote. Tears streamed down my face, brought on by the incessant voices. The truths they screamed.
Me: Leave me alone.
The words shot across the screen like a bullet. Immediate regret followed, hard and hot, rising with dizzying speed.
“God.” My head fell in defeat, a sob crawling up through me. “Why did I do that?”
Because it’s easier, something small inside me answered.You always pick the easier path.
Tears spilled, hot tracks sliding down my cheeks.
Ping.
Read: No.
I blinked once. Twice. The word stayed.
No.
Not a paragraph. Not a lecture. Not a clumsy attempt at reassurance. Just two letters that broke the script clean in half.
The chorus stuttered. For a heartbeat, they had nothing.
Then they regrouped, scrambling to contain the breach.He must not have understood.
Another message.
Read: I’m not leaving just because you told me to.
My inhales went ragged, hitching in shallow bursts. I pressed the heel of my hand between my brows until it hurt. My father’s voice rushed in, crowding the edges of my mind.Emma, soften yourself. No man will want a wife like this.
My mother’s tone followed, sweet and poisonous.Oh honey, you bring this on yourself. You’ve scared people off since you were little—I’ve told you that a thousand times.
Then the questions hit, no space between them.Why wasn’t I good enough? Why couldn’t you love me like you loved everyone else? Why was I always the problem?
The edges of my mind blurred, voices breaking into the space around me, freed from the prison.Why? Why? Why?!
Me: Why?
The word looked small on the screen, almost childish. A raw, cracked laugh tore free—somewhere between hysteria and surrender.
Maybe this was it. Maybe I’d finally broken reality cleanly enough to get a hallucination. Maybe none of this existed beyond my own skull.
Ping.
Read: Because the woman I know wouldn’t shove me away over a bad meeting. Something else is going on here, and I refuse to let you face it alone.
I stared at the words so long my eyes started to burn.
The woman I know.
He didn’t say “the profile” or “the messages.” He didn’t hedge withseemsorappears. Just a statement, like he’d decided on a version of me and was sticking to it.
