He Called Me Needy, Then Lost

y Gla

done." Saying the words out loud, finally, felt li

iate, him to deflect. He' d learned that trick early in our relationship. A quick apology, a vague promise to do better, and

hurt, every slight, every broken promise was cataloged in my min

even years, it had been a side hustle, a way to keep my skills sharp while August chased his dream. Now, it was

packing a small suitcase. He was scroll

mom's?" he mumbled, sti

to LA with him, so excited, so full of hope. He' d promi

to a tight hug after I quit my stable design job in Portland.

. There was a time when he truly appreciat

ned, and he suffered a severe head injury. I rushed to the hospital, terrified. He looked so pale, so f

rything." He swore then, if he ever made it big, I' d be right there beside him, sha

that had always lurked in my periphery, began to consume me. It stemmed from an unstable childhood, where my father died young, and my mother abandoned me repeatedly

e clingy, suspicious. Especially w

after a particularly steamy scene with

about the late-night calls, the "creative discussions" that seemed to extend well past

assionate kiss. It was supposed to be a short, innocent peck. But it lingered. His hand cradled her face. Her fin

frozen, watching, a silent observer in my own nightmare. Later, I scolded myself. It's j

d checking his phone, something I swore

ey? Don't you trust me? This is a

able to defend myself. All I could think was, I

my phone?" he yelled, his voice laced with contempt

n it all to him. But it was his suggestion. He had encouraged me to quit, to focus

mine. It gave me a purpose beyond August, beyond the endless cycle of waiting and worrying. I buried myself in flowers, in orders, in

ing with another woman? Is he telling her all the things he used to tell me? The anx