Two years. For two years we’ve been together. Those were the best two years of my shitty life. Every moment with her was blissful. We laughed, we loved, we cried, we argued, we made up, and we loved some more. I was happy, and I thought she was too. I told her I loved her, and she said it back. But, thinking back to it, I wonder if it was true.
Her name was Emily. Emily Sinclair. We met through our mutual friend, Sarah. I was hesitant about meeting her because I knew Sarah wanted me to ‘get back out there’, but I wasn’t looking for a relationship then, or…so I thought.
I remember that day quite clearly. It was a cozy weekend barbecue in Sarah’s backyard. She assumed Emily and I would hit it off because of our shared interest in music and art. Sarah made the introductions, and Emily’s eyes met mine for the first time.
I remember clearly that she wore slim-fit jeans and a plain white shirt that clung to her skin. Her brown eyes lit up in the light of the sun, making them shine with a golden glow. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her back in flowing, defined waves. Her delicate and slender frame gave her an almost graceful presence.
I extended an arm towards her. She hesitated for a second as if she didn't know what to do, then shook my hand.
“Right,” Sarah started, putting her hands together. “Dylan, Emily, you two can get to know each other.” Sarah left us alone and we stood in silence, trying to avoid each other’s gaze. The atmosphere was so thick, it felt suffocating. She was the one who broke the silence.
“So…um, Dylan. Sarah told me you…like art. That’s great.” Her voice was soft and she spoke in a sort of awkward and uncomfortable tone.
“Uh, yeah. She told me you did too. That’s…great.”
She giggled at my remark and continued making small talk. That’s what we did through the night, just talking with each other. We exchanged numbers before saying goodbye that evening.
For weeks after that, we met again, being brought together by Sarah for some sort of gathering with friends. Our conversations became more personal, more deep. Months went by and our friendship grew. We learned more about each other’s interests, much of which we had in common. I don’t know how it happened, but our connection deepened in such a way that I didn’t want to just be friends. Before I knew it, what began as a simple friendship blossomed into a relationship. We found ourselves deeply entwined in each other’s lives.
Emily was the third person I’ve dated, but was the first person I said I love you to. My other relationships were just…for fun. There was nothing serious. No commitment. But Emily… she was different. She seemed different.
As I said, we shared the same interests, which was what made me attracted to her in the first place, but I had different reasons as to why I loved her. It was not because of her appearance, though her beauty was immaculate. But it was more than that. It was the fact that she understood me. It was the fact that I could be open and comfortable with her. It was the fact that she listened and considered my feelings, too. It was the fact that she didn’t just look for intimacy. It was the fact that she saw me for me—things I never experienced in any one of my previous relationships.
Before I met Emily, I struggled with anxiety and stress. When I was younger, I could juggle responsibilities and still make time for myself. But everything changed when my parents divorced and my brother dying from an overdose not long after. The grief, the guilt, along with my responsibilities—it all seemed too much and I began to spiral. I’ve had sleepless nights and panic attacks, which left me gasping for air.
Then Emily happened and she somehow served as my lifeline. I told her about it, about my struggles. And she listened with a compassion I hadn’t experienced before and, to my relief, she understood.
From the moment I opened up to her, she gave me stability. I turned to her whenever I was overwhelmed or stressed, her calming presence helping to pull me back from the edge. The anxiety seemed to worsen as time went on. The relentless pressures of my life felt like they were suffocating me. But I clung to Emily like a magnet to a metal surface. Without her, I felt lost. Emily was open with me too, at least I thought so. There was something secretive about her, something she didn't want to share. But I never really bothered myself about it.
Two years into our relationship. I was happy and content. I wouldn’t have expected that just two days after our anniversary of when we first met, she would have decided to end things. On that fateful Tuesday evening, she messaged me:
Dylan
We can’t be together anymore
I'm so sorry
And that was it. No explanation. No goodbye. Just a vague break-up and a sorry.
I broke down. The one person I depended on, gone. It had been weeks since Emily left, but the wound was still raw, the pain fresh as if it had just happened yesterday. There was an unbearable ache in my chest that gnawed at me now and again.
Few days ago, though I had an unexpected visitor. On that Sunday morning, as the sun shone through thick clouds, the doorbell rang. I frowned because I wasn’t expecting anybody. I opened the door and my heart skipped a beat. There, Emily stood looking fragile, her eyes red and puffy. I wanted to close the door in her face, but I also wanted her to hug her. I wanted to yell at her, but I also wanted to kiss her. Without saying anything, I stepped aside, wanting her to come in. She looked at me before stepping inside slowly as if she were a stranger to this place. She turned to me as I stood cross-armed, anger surging through me.
“Dylan,” she began, her voice trembling. “I know you probably don’t want to see me, but…I miss you.” Tears were welling up in her eyes. That made me more furious. She had no reason to be crying. She was not the one who should be crying.
“Say something. Please.” She nervously played with her fingers. I shook my head, still fuming.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. I really am.”
“You're sorry,” I scoffed. “You don’t get to come here and cry in front of me.”
“Dylan, I–”
“No. No! You left me. You left me when I fucking needed you!” I began pacing back and forth. “You fucking left me when I needed you! When I was at my fucking lowest!” My body shook with the intensity of my emotions, and tears started to form. She stepped back out of fear, her tears streaming down her face. I paused, taking a deep breath to calm myself.
“You don’t…you don’t do that,” I continued, my voice breaking. “You don’t do that to…someone you love.” At that moment, I let the tears fall. Emily gazed at me, her lips trembling. I quickly wiped away my tears. “I can’t. I can’t…waste my words. Don’t waste yours. Just be silent. Be empty. Be…nothing.” I sniffed, bringing my hand up to my forehead. “You really made me feel like nothing.”
Emily nodded, her tears flowing freely. Not saying another word, she turned and left.
I stood by the door, trying hard not to look back at her, to not call her back, my heart feeling heavy but resolute.