oing to be you, Chloe." "No one understands me like you do." "We're going to build a future together." The words, o
kitchen, making the pancakes I used to love, humming a cheerful tune.
e said, smiling.
hadn't liked overly sweet things for years, a fa
gently. It was a small act of rebellion, a quie
confused, then shrugge
a tangled mess of anger and sadness, but on the surface, I was a
having that big anniversary party next month
lculating, planning. I would go to the party. I would play the par
up his things-the books he'd left on my nightstand, the extra toothbrush in the bathroom, the hoodie he always wore on lazy Sund
for the trash pickup. Just as I turne
his face. "What's all this?"
'm getting rid of," I
life with me, and tossed it into the large trash bin at the end of the driveway. The irony was so thick I coul
few hours later. It was a large, potted orchid, elegant
ait to fill it with more b
ne, laughing at something on the screen. He was a complete stranger to me. The person I had loved, or the person I thought I had loved, was gone. Maybe he never existed a
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