DOMINIC
Age 23
June
In the twoweeks since Mia left, nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.
On the outside, I look the same. On the inside, the place where my heart sat has turned into a deep, dark pit of despair.
When she was here, I could find ways to catch glimpses of her on days I really missed her, even if only briefly and from afar. Now, all I’m left with is her Instagram feed, posts about places she’s visited, dishes she’s tried, and art from the museums she’s toured. Not a single post shows her face, and my mood is all fucked up.
“Need another beer?” Matt asks.
I shake my head and focus on the TV. He dropped by unexpectedly, claiming it’s been too long since we played video games. In reality, I think he’s checking up on me.
Because apparently, everyone is worried about me.
It’s fucking bullshit.
I mostly told Matt the truth about why I broke up with Mia, and I explained how it happened, though I glossed over the details. Just thinking about what I did makes me nauseous. He was understandably pissed, and the black eye he gave me was well deserved.
On the screen, my character dies. It’s unsurprising. My heart isn’t in it. With a sigh, I hand the controller to Matt. We agreed to take turns playingCall of Duty, and so far, it’s been a decent distraction.
While he plays, I pick up my beer and relish the sensation of the cool liquid sliding down my throat.
I never ask about Mia. Not him, not Dad. No one.
But they fill me in anyway.
“Mia called yesterday.”
I don’t react; I just take another sip of my drink.
He clears his throat. “Um, she said she’s staying.”
My soul tears itself in two as his words register.
“Apparently,” he goes on, unaware of the blow he just delivered, “it’s been in the making for some time. Dad helped her enroll at his school. She’s transferring her credits.”
My stomach clenches, and I bite the inside of my cheek. This can’t be happening.
“Mom lost her shit.” Matt shrugs. “Told her she was making a mistake. But it’s Mia. Of course she didn’t listen.” Another pause as he tries to pass the level I failed. “She’s not coming back. At least, not for the foreseeable future.”
I can’t breathe. The echo of my heartbeat, the only thing that keeps me going while my soul is an ocean away, stutters, and the ache in my chest grows stronger. I’m fucking dying on the inside, but on the outside, I remain calm, unbothered.
I just lift my bottle, take another sip, and swallow. Only then do I say, “Good for her.”
Matt glances at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but eventually, he brings his attention back to the screen. With a heavy heart, I try to do that too.
After Matt leaves,I open my laptop, and, like an asshole, I look up flights to Milan. I can get there as soon as tomorrow. I go as far as selecting a seat before I close the window completely.
The whole point of tearing our hearts out the way I did was to set her free, to give her a chance to find happiness. I did it the way I did so she’d never look back, so I could just love her from afar.
Doesn’t her moving to Italy play right into that plan?
With a sigh, I click my laptop shut.
Maybe one day, I’ll believe I did the right thing.
