My Peace Beyond His Regret

best friend, Branden, over our relationship, ignoring my

as a peace offering. But while he was partying, I was

amien had 'liked' Branden' s s

, calling me "dramatic" and "clingy," completely una

s face turning from shock to rage as he saw his bel

nd steady. "We're over, Damien. So, are these

pte

l thud against my eardrums. It was him, of course. Damien. Barely a week since he chose a Vegas trip with Bran

s simple, almo

ck. Guess who' s got

in my throat. He always thought he could fix things with

I' d admired in a shop window months ago. I remember pointing it out to him, hinting at it for my birthday, whic

again. And again. Finally, a voicemail notification

rritation. He sounded tired, maybe hungover, but definitely annoyed. "Where ar

too well. It was his way of implying

completely hollow. "That bag you wanted. The expensive one. See? I think about you. I' m waiting outside. Brande

sconnect. He hadn't even bothered to properly end the messa

r, the stack of books he never read. All packed in boxes, labeled meticulously. My hands had moved with a methodical, almo

ke the quiet after a storm, when the damage is done but the air feels clear, brea

s contact, and sent him the screenshot. B

ally think this

was probably still outside, expecting me to rush

e over. I sent it. J

s, pulling out a roll of packing tape. There were still a few things

ple and orange. The soft glow of the apartment lights flickered on, illuminating the dust mot

the street below. Two familiar voices. One, deep and resonant – Damien. The other, sh

ried clearly, laced with a familiar mockery. "She' s going t

ut now just grated. "She' ll be fine. Just a little d

und Damien' s shoulder, pulling him into a side-hug. Damien leaned into it, his head til

ce dropping conspiratorially, but still loud enough to echo. "You know how sh

ful shove. "Hey, she' s not that bad. Just needs to learn t

dance, one I' d watched countless times, always with a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. In the past, I would have shrunk back, stung, wondering wha

ht. Tonight w

escaped my lips-a tiny cough, a cl

teady, cutting through their easy la

ng the windows of our apartment. They hadn't ev

landed on the neatly stacked boxes by the living room window. His jaw dropped. His f

hat is all this, Cecil?" His voice was a harsh whi

g with his keys. I didn' t move from the window. I watched him storm i

clean countertops, the empty drying rack. "Where' s dinner?" he

carton of milk and some leftover takeout from my dinner last nig

a peace offering. "Look, honey, he bought you the bag! He was just telling me on the way over how much he missed you, how he was planning to make it up to you." Bra

r, always pulling Damien' s strings. Damien, always so easily manipulated, always needing someone to

to the floor with a sharp clatter. Th

Damien' s stunned face to Branden' s smug one. "There' s no 'making it up to me.' There' s no 'reeling me back in.' " I punctuated my words with

boxes," I said, gesturing towards his packed life.