"I found the one. He changed my life.
But was it me that changed and he just happened to come at the right time I'm supposed to be in love? But I'm numb again." What now by Rihanna.

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

10:24 PM

"Those curls are beautiful."

I hummed as I let the scalding hot iron bully my curls into submission. Passing a finger through my hair, I sectioned out a thin layer and ran a comb through it. I picked up the straightening iron from the counter and watched it clamp over the lock of hair and move down the length of it, taming it in its wake. I did that repeatedly until all the hair in my head fell over my face, framing it perfectly.

"I love your freckles." He traced my skin with his finger. "They're clearer and browner and beautifuler in real life."

I hummed as I applied a generous amount of concealer over my freckles and gently patted it with the pad of my fingers. Smearing liquid makeup all over my skin, I dabbed along, blending it using my stipple brush. My freckles were nowhere to be found, effectively concealed by a thick layer of makeup.

Our lips were like trained ballerinas, dancing in sync with so much elegance.

I hummed as I picked up a red lip liner from my makeup bag and drew a subtle line over the shape of my lips. Spreading a cherry lip gloss on the middle of my bottom lip, I tucked it under my upper lip and rubbed them together. A mirror-like shine glistened my lips, accentuating the rest of my makeup.

"... I love you now and I'll love you the same if you were 40 pounds heavier or lighter..."

I hummed as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My long lashes, heavy for my eyelids, cast a shadow over my hollow cheeks. My rose gold pearl necklace embroidered my neck, its hibiscus-shaped pendant sitting over my breastbone. Angling my head slightly to the side, I ran a finger over my sculpted jaw, all the way to my prominent collarbone. My plump lips stretched in a reminiscent smile as I clutched my necklace—my treasured possession.

My phone lit up with an incoming call from where it sat on the vanity as Rosie's silly face hijacked the screen. I placed my finger over the green icon and glided it to the right. "Rosie girl!" I beamed and tapped the speaker button.

"Robbie, baby!" Rosie's voice came through. "We're at your door." Her voice escalated with every syllable. She was yelling through the loud music booming behind her. I imagined her giving Chris a disapproving look while holding the phone with one hand and covering her ear with the other so she could hear me better.

"Oh," My eyes went wide, "I'll be down in a sec." I gathered my scattered makeup essentials, crammed them into my transparent bag, and walked out of the bathroom.

"Jesus. Would it kill you to turn the fucking volume down when I'm on the phone?" Rosie mumbled before she ended the call.

Wincing at her exasperated tone, I sprayed myself with my new favorite perfume, picked up my clutch from my bed, and tiptoed out of my room. Standing In front of the full-length mirror by the hallway, I gave myself an approving look and slid into my heels.

I brisked through the hallway and peeked my head into Topher's room, that was left ajar. My brother and his best friend Brandon were giggling at something on the Tv. My heart stirred inside my chest and happy tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I never knew the sound of a child's laughter could will a heart to jump in so much joy. I would move all the mountains in the world with one arm to keep that carefree smile on my brother's face forever. Swallowing down my emotion, "I'm leaving, Toph." I spoke from where I stood at the door.

Topher took his eyes off the Tv long enough to glance at me and nod.

Walking in, I ruffled his hair and Brandon's too while I discreetly peeped at the Tv, making sure they were laughing at an age-appropriate content. They zapped my hand away and giggled some more.

"Call me if you need anything. Have fun, you two. Love you!" I smiled as I closed the door and sauntered into the living room.

Rebecca, our next-door neighbor and the sitter for the night, was making popcorn in the kitchen. "You leaving?" she asked, opening the microwave and taking the brown paper bag out.

"Yeah." I sat on the couch and tied the straps of my heels around my ankles. Rebecca had been helping me look after Topher since we moved into our new apartment over a month ago.

After I had that argument with my mom, the one that resulted in me getting punched in the gut, smacked in the ear, and spat at in the face, I took a step back and reflected on my life. And what I saw was a triad of doom.

I was unhappy, unhealthy, and barely living.

My mom's venomous words had sunk deep into my bones and sprung to life. Their clawed hands had grabbed me by the neck and throttled me. Their careless whispers, heavy with conviction, had convinced me to believe I was a murderer.

I had spent an entire year of my life neglecting myself and catering to her—to everyone else, all the while I was swimming in a sea of grief. My voice was silenced. My emotions were repressed. My head was barely above the water. And guilt was knotted around my ankle like an anchor, weighing me down. I was sinking, wading, slowly drifting, barely living.

And that fateful night, while that guttural punch had my intestines turn, the spit to my face had my compunction evaporate along with my sympathy and everything else I had felt for the woman I called my mom. I have paid my dues. I have had enough. With that realization, I ran for my life.

And the rest of it unfolded quickly.

I googled rehab facilities and found a few affordable ones. I checked them out, drove home, and threw the brochure on my mom's face. I swallowed my pride and called my grandparents to ask for a loan. They granted me some, reluctantly. I had sworn to never give an ultimatum—ever again—after they cost me, Noah. But in my mom's case, I had to. It was rehab or never seeing Topher again.

She cried. She cursed. She begged. But a few weeks later, she chose her son.

By November first, my mom, Topher, and I had packed our bags, turned in our house keys, drove away from that horror house, and went on our separate ways. Mom went to rehab. Topher and I moved into our new two-bedroom apartment on the other side of the state. I registered for my classes and between my student grant, my savings, and the leftover from my grandparent's loan, Topher and I were set for a good start.

As quickly as everything had turned upside down, it had turned right side up.

Life began again. Topher smiled again. I breathed again.

"Have fun. You deserve it." Rebecca smiled at me, fisting a handful of popcorn and shoving it in her mouth. She was a middle school Art teacher whose resume screamed pick me, choose me, love me. It wasn't my first-time leaving Topher with her, yet I was reluctant to do so that night.

"You too." I gave her a jittery smile. "If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Now go, shoo. See ya next year."

Cringing at her outdated joke, I got up from the couch, slipped into my coat, and walked out of my apartment.

It was New Year's Eve. Rosie and Chris were on winter break. They had come to New York city to spend the holidays with Chris' family and watch the ball drop. Well, that was what Rosie thought. The real reason was... Chris was proposing.

I had known that information for a little over four months. When Chris called me one random night in August to tell me to clear up my schedule for December 31st, I had squealed out of happiness until my throat cracked. I had helped Chris pick out an engagement ring through FaceTime a few months ago, and I had taken Rosie on a spa day a couple of days ago. I was excited to see how their lives would turn out.

I couldn't have handpicked a better man for Rosie. Their love was eternal, and I was ecstatic to have been a part of their swoon-worthy story.

Locking the door behind me, I paced toward Chris' car with my clutch above my head, doing my best to cover my hair from the light snowfall. I noticed that a third person was sitting on the rear seat directly behind the passenger, so I made my way to the driver's side and opened the door.

"Hi, you guys." I squealed and slid into the seat, grabbing my seatbelt. Just as I turned to my right to look for the buckle between the cushions, Nick's sculpted face crowded my vision. If Rosie and Chris said hi in return, I didn't hear. My ears were temporarily out of order as all the blood was banished from them.

"Oh," I found the buckle and slid the seatbelt tongue in, securing it. "Hi, Nick." A polite smile took over my features, masking my disdain.

I detested Nick. I resented him so much, my nails dug into my palms at the sight of him.

"Hi princess." Nick's lips twisted in a complacent grin. His blue eyes gloated as they descended from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

I shifted in my seat, hoping to calm my body that was shivering in discomfort. But my unease was coming from deep within. My heart plummeted in abhorrence and I could feel my skin turn red with wrath. Nick's warning echoed loud and clear in my ear, deafening me, stuffing me with more hatred. I remembered his punishing words, letter by letter.

"He's going to break your fucking heart and leave you for a stick thin model with double D's."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but he will break you and I'll be the one to pick up the pieces."

I remembered his stupid face crumbling in disappointment as he walked away from me. But above anything recollected, his smug face just inches away from mine, screaming I told you so! rubbed me the wrong way.

My eyes connected with Chris' through his rear-view mirror. His wolfish grin and Rosie's unusually quiet demeanor told me what I needed to know. It was a setup. A wicked one at that. Averting my gaze from Chris', I crossed my arms over my chest, craned my neck to the side, and watched the snow-clad world through the moving car window.

The truth of the matter was, Nick was right. Noah didn't just leave me, he left me blind. Noah didn't just break me, He shattered me beyond repair. Nick had predicted the demise of my relationship to a T and I hated his guts for that.

I had no control over the past. I couldn't hold Nick's mouth shut before he jinxed my life. I couldn't reverse time and un-break my heart. I couldn't cry over spilled milk. What I could do was deny Nick the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Deny him the chance to see me broken, much less pick up the pieces.

And that was exactly what I did for the rest of the car ride. As we maneuvered our way through NJ-NY traffic, I camouflaged my crushed heart with my practiced plastic smile and jumped into their conversation like I was A-OK.

I had so much to celebrate that night. So many celebration-worthy moments had bombarded my life in just a few months. I was going back to school, my mom was getting better, Topher was smiling, and my best friend was getting proposed to. I wasn't going to let Nick's presence dim my celebration.

***

"Let's do this!" Chris whooped as we pulled over by the entrance of a fancy club.

A couple of tall, bald, tattooed men with earpieces hanging from their ears and sunglasses too small for their enormous faces stood behind the red velvet rope with their muscular hands crossed over their chests.

Tossing his car keys to a young man in a red shawl collar vest, Chris grabbed Rosie's manicured hand and led the way. I followed them, leaving Nick behind me. There was a long line of people shivering in the cold, waiting to be let in. Just as I took my place behind the last person, Nick tapped me on the shoulder and tipped his head toward the door, telling me to follow him.

Nick leaned into the bouncer and mumbled something in his ear. The intimidating man's face broke into a mushy smile before he unclasped the rope and gestured for us to walk in. The crowd protested in a groan as Chris and Rosie walked in, and Nick and I followed.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness shared between Nick and me when he led me inside, putting a possessive hand over the small of my back. My stomach lurched in repulsion at the contact, but as soon as my eyes landed on the crowd of hungry men licking their lips in anticipation, my body relaxed.

I kept as much distance as I could from Nick for the first half of the night. His celebrity status had made him quite popular with the ladies... and some men, so avoiding him wasn't all that hard. But avoiding his gaze? That was another story. His laser eyes followed my every move, regardless of how far away he sat from me.

I was sitting at the bar, sipping my Virgin Mojito and watching Taylor Swift perform Welcome to New York, when Rosie came and trapped me in a suffocating hug.

"I'm so fucking happy, Robbie." She emitted happiness in beams. Her smile was contagious. I couldn't help but grin. "I don't know why, but I can't help the jitters." She hopped from one foot to the other, her voice jumping multiple octaves.

Chris hadn't proposed yet, so her intuition must have been off the roof, preparing her for the shock of her life. Not giving me an opening to reply, she slid onto the stool next to me and took a sip from my drink. Craning her neck from side to side, Rosie's eyes assessed the crowd, before landing on Nick, who was cradling a beautiful brunette on his lap. Her gaze ping-ponged between him and me for a quick second before she closed her eyes and sipped some more.

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to me with a mischievous smirk. "You know he's just doing all that to get your attention, right?"

I gave Rosie a careless shrug and trained my eyes on the Tv. Of course, he was doing it for attention. I wasn't that oblivious. But my attention? I thought that was a reach.

My best friend tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned closer to me. "He has literally been anxious out of his mind the entire ride to your place. He wouldn't stop talking about you. He likes you a lot. I just wish you'd give him a chance."

I just wished he weren't there, staring at me while he had a girl in his lap. That was disrespectful and sordid.

"Quit it, Rosie." I sighed. She had been trying to set us up... since Noah left.

Rosie slouched and sighed louder, her breath blowing her bangs away from her face. "I just want to see you be loved and cherished."

"You have seen me loved and cherished." I said as my mind tried to drift to all the times Noah made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. My senses amplified, the room felt smaller, my heart grew fonder. I swatted back the liquid emotion that was threatening to leak from my eyes and hummed over the loud music.

"I have." Rosie's hand rested atop mine on the bar counter. "But I think it's time you let yourself be loved again." The pad of her finger ran over my bandaged knuckle. Her statement held so much truth behind it. I needed to let myself be loved again. I needed to love myself again. Her gesture held so much message behind it. I needed to stop hiding. I needed to face the truth.

"I know." I gave her a lazy smile. "I just can't help but think our story isn't over yet."

Rosie shook her head, and her eyes welled with pity. "Oh honey. It's been more than a year. You've gotta let him go."

Easier said than done, Rosie.

"I know what you're saying." I nodded and drew a sip from my drink. "I really do. But something inside of me tells me to hold on. And call me stupid, but I'm choosing to listen to it."

Retracting her hand, Rosie adjusted herself on her seat and spoke in a subdued voice. "I love you. So much. That goes without saying." She shrugged. "But I'm going to risk saying something that might not make you happy." Her puss-in-boots-puppy-eyes roamed all over my face. "I don't think he's coming back, May. And yes, you are stupid, stupid in love."

Her words hit me like a sucker punch. But I didn't feel the sting because they were falling on deaf ears. I wasn't stupid in love. Noah loved me back, ten times harder at that. He told me I was it for him. He told me he was coming back.

"Well, you don't know Noah." I risked a glance at her conflicted face.

"You don't either, May." She grumbled under her breath and picked up her phone, unlocking it. Choosing to let her have the last word, I ran my fingers through my straightened hair and continued watching Tv silently.

Most of what I had confessed to Rosie was true. I had this nagging feeling I couldn't get rid of, telling me to just hold on. You know, Noah, he would never abandon you like this. It would tell me. He is too good of a person to just leave you like that. He loves you too much. He wouldn't let you go this easily. It would recite over and over again. And a part of me wanted to believe that. A part of me did believe that.

I wasn't a fool. I wasn't stupid. I wasn't the obsessed ex who was holding onto a false hope of reconciliation. It was just that no part of his departure made sense. After he left that night, he disappeared off the face of the earth... well, off the face of my earth. I never got a single call or text from him. His accounts all over social media were hidden from me, except for his SoundCloud, which he wasn't even active on anymore. Not only that, but I was also blocked from seeing Ava, Zach, and Ben's accounts as well. It was like he wanted to cut off all ties with me. It was like he never wanted to see me ever again. And for what? For telling him to stay? Too extreme of a reaction, if you asked me. Something was fishy.

But then there was that other part of me. The part that was astute. The part that knew Noah and his MO all too well. Noah had disappeared on me before. Granted, it was just for a week and not an entire year. Nonetheless, he had a habit of dissociating when things got tough. He went a week without talking to me when he got into a fight with Zach and got fired from his job. He disappeared into thin air when he had a lot on his plate. Maybe he had disappeared for good when things got tough between us. When things got real between us. He ran away from his problems, but what if he was running from me, too?

"When do classes begin?" Rosie asked absently as she scrolled through her Instagram feed.

Taking my time to swallow my drink, "We have orientation on the 5th and classes begin on the 10th." I replied, redirecting my brain to recount my schedule and relinquish thinking about Noah.

I had tried to avoid thinking about him for the longest. I had tried to suppress my memories of him along with my emotions and go on with my life. With my dad's death, my mom's disease, and our financial situation, I had been successful. But with almost everything resolved, I couldn't hide anymore. I could feel them creeping up, and I feared the beast they would unleash.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her eyes trained on her phone, her thumb refreshing her feed.

I chuckled. "Excited is an understatement. I can't wait to be done with my undergrad and start med school before my MCAT expires. I have no intention of taking it again. It was excruciating." I shuddered, thinking about all the hours I sat in front of the computer taking the exam. "I have turned in my application to Harvard and Columbia. I want to start med school immediately after graduating. I can't waste more time. I literally—" I turned to look at Rosie while I spoke animatedly about my plans, but the expression on her face had my sentence cut short.

Rosie's face had paled, and her jaw was slack. Her doe eyes were wide and stuck on her phone and she was panting fast labored breaths. My brows furrowed as I followed her gaze.

Her screen showed a black-and-white picture of interwoven hands. My heart skipped multiple beats as my pupils dilated and took in every single detail seen in the picture. Delicate, manicured fingers lay atop the knuckles of a veiny hand. Though the focus of the picture was set on the hands, the contents of the blurred background could still be seen. A perfectly trimmed lawn, a garden of flowers, and a quarter of a dress. The black-and-white filter over the photo had a sense of calm to it.

The picture was striking, serene, a sight for sore eyes. What had nausea washing over me was the tattoo peeking from underneath the manicured pinky finger. It took little time for the dots to connect. I knew that hand more than I knew my own. It had touched my body in ways even I never did. And the tattoo on it, the A+ inked stylishly? I had traced it with the tip of my tongue. I had its duplicate on my hand, under my band-aid.

My stomach coiled. Then recoiled. Then it coiled again, propelling the drink I had been sipping up to my mouth—my agape mouth. I must have gasped, whimpered, or made a choked sound. I couldn't recall. In fact, I couldn't recall much of what had happened next. Just fragments.

Rosie sobered up and clutched the phone to her chest, attempting to hide it from me. But I had seen enough.

I had read the username. Avalavidaloca

I had memorized the caption. There's no love like the first. #Neverlettingyougoagain #Loveofmylife #Mytwinflame #Mysoulemateinthislifeandthenext

"Robbie?" Rosie winced, shaking me. She must have called me a thousand times. I was spaced out. My mind was frozen.

"It's okay." I gulped and ran my tongue over my lips. They felt chapped even under the thick layer of lip gloss I had on. "I'm okay." I said, more to myself than to her.

"Babes, let's talk about it." Her frown was deep, concealing the rage in her eyes. I wondered which expression my eyes conveyed at that moment. Did I look furious? Dejected? Hopeless? Dumb? Broken?

Rosie clasped my hand and tugged me forward, urging me to stand up and follow her.

"No." I stood my ground. I was defiant. I was... I was... lost, unsure of what to do, what to feel. "There's nothing to talk about." I closed my eyes and shook my head to wake myself up from the bad dream I was having. "It is what it is." I allowed my lips to stretch in a smile, but my heart was shrinking in a scowl.

"May-" Rosie started, but I stopped her. The sympathy in her eyes pulled at my heartstrings.

"I'm going to walk out for a sec, okay? Please don't follow me. Huh? I just need to take a breath. Okay, Rosie? Please." I gritted out the words through my clenched teeth, holding the big ball of emotion that was dislodged from my throat captive.

Tipping my head up to prevent the tears from falling, I drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Nick's punishing blue eyes caught mine from the other end of the bar. A different brunette was buried in his neck, clutching his shirt like her life depended on it. When she came out for air, her eyes were closed and I could tell she was relishing in his scent. But his eyes were wide open, searching my face from the distance. When they finished roaming my face, I saw them soften. It was like he had telepathic abilities. I hated him even more for that.

Averting my gaze, I took a swig of my drink and stood up from the stool. Rosie made a move to follow me, but my eyes pleaded with her and she sat back down.

With my head hung low, I pushed the hefty back door and walked out of the fancy bar. I hadn't had a chance to gather my thoughts when the door barged open behind me, ejecting Nick with his ruffled hair and disheveled shirt.

"Hey." He cleared his throat and took a step toward me.

I held my hand up to stop him, and he halted in his tracks, watching me intently.

I was pacing, trying to shut the voice in my head down. What now? What the hell do I do now? It screamed at me. I had dribbled with the idea of Noah never coming back. I had mulled over the possibility of him somewhere on earth with someone else. But with her? Her, of all people? It didn't even cross my mind. How could it? He had assured me time and time again that he was done with her. He hated her. She fucked his brother, for Christ's sake.

"Love is finite."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that love ends, Mer. When someone you love hurts you, all the adoration you had for them evaporates and is replaced with indignation. Plus, it has been five months. She has moved down south and I have moved on." He added, "Life goes on, you know."

He was a liar. A deceiver. A swindler. A fraud.

Indignation had me trembling. Nick closed the gap between us and grabbed my hand. "Are you okay, princess?" he asked, worry coating his words.

I got out of his grasp. "Please stop calling me that and go away." My voice cracked.

Shrugging his coat off, Nick outstretched his hand and offered it to me. I shook my head and continued pacing.

"What's wrong?" he stepped closer and draped the coat over my shoulders.

"Get away from me, Nick." I snapped. "You're the last person I want to see right now."

His head jolted back, confusion painting his face pink. "What did I do?"

Letting out a condescending laugh. "Fuck you." I muttered.

"What?" he tipped my chin up, making me meet his eyes. "What is this about? What did I do?" The genuine confusion in his face had fury running through me.

I shoved his chest away; I was charged with anger. "You jinxed my relationship, you asshole!" I yelled. I knew he had nothing to do with Noah leaving me for Ava, but I needed someone to blame.

"What are you talking about?"

"Go away, Nick." I turned my back to him and gathered my breath.

"May." He stood behind me, his hand sneaking to grab mine.

"Why are you here? Are you some kind of a... sadist?" I faced him. "Do you like watching people cry? Do you want to laugh at me? Do you want to say you told me so? Are you here to gloat? To tell me how dumb I am? Well, I don't want to hear it." I finished walking further away from him.

Nick took every blow like a champ. He didn't flinch; he didn't wince. "Is that what you think of me?" But his voice was full of agony. "I would never want to see you cry. If anything, I want to beat the shit out of whoever made you upset."

"Go beat yourself up then." I grumbled under my breath.

"What are you saying, May? What the hell did I do?"

"You said he was going to leave me. He did. You said I was going to be broken. I am. What more reason do I need to hate your guts, Nick?"

A thick air of silence hung between us.

Nick opened his mouth to speak, then he clamped it shut. Shaking his head, he let out a long sigh and walked away from me. He pulled the door open, took a step forward, but then thought against it and turned back to me, letting the door shut behind him.

"I'm sorry that piece of shit left you. But that's just it. He left you. Why are you mad at me?"

"Don't talk about him like that."

Nick laughed. He tipped his head up and laughed at me like I was a clown riding on a unicycle and wobbling in mock.

"Yes, Nick. Laugh at me. Relish in my pain. Laugh some more."

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at how fucking delusional you are, May." He tipped his head up, staring at the sky. "Wow. He did numbers on you. He fucking breaks your heart and you tell me to not call him a piece of shit?" He chuckled, but it was a bitter chuckle.

"Whether you like it or not, he is a piece of shit for letting you go." He raised his hands and backed up. "But I'm done. I'm done waiting for you. You'll always be another man's girl. I can't let myself go through that." He shook his head and walked away.

My head was in jumbles. I suspected he had a little crush on me... okay, a big one, but I never thought he was waiting for me. What did that even mean?

His retreating steps sobered me up. Cynicism coated my throat, and I had to spit. "Yes, walk away. Walk away from me. That's what everybody does." I took my voice down a notch. "That's what Noah did."

Nick stopped at the door with his hands on his waist and stared up. Shaking his head once more, he walked inside, leaving me in the cold. Just like Noah did.

After taking a few minutes to compose myself, I pulled the heavy door open and walked back into the club. Nick was on the dancefloor with yet another girl, a petite one. They were chest-to-back; her grinding on him, irrespective of the beat of the music. You'd think her sloppy yet provocative dancing would have his attention, but no. His eyes were on me, following my entrance.

For a second, a fleeting thought passed through me. What if I had Rosie snap a picture of me dancing with Nick and I posted it? Would it bring Noah back like it did that one time? But that thought didn't stay too long. The caption under the picture had crushed all the hope I had of him coming back. #Neverlettingyougoagain

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head in condemnation at myself and my stupid vengeful thoughts, I walked to the bar and joined Rosie.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Not tonight." I replied. Tonight, we're going to celebrate. Tomorrow, I'm going to cry.

We drank more. I switched my Virgin Mojito to a non-virgin one. There was a sizzling pain inside my body, radiating, spreading, metastasizing like a stubborn tumor, so I fumigated it with alcohol. I learned from the best. My mom downed her pain away with alcohol.

We danced, sang along—the DJ had an exquisite taste in music—and the night went on.

More friends started showing up at the club, and Chris became impatient. No longer able to keep his big question unasked, he kneeled on one knee in the middle of the dirty dancefloor and popped the question.

"Rosie, will you marry me, baby?" and a lot more I couldn't recall. I was too busy humming, trying to shoo away my stupid thoughts. Noah called me baby.

Big, fat, nervous moisture gathered around Chris' forehead. Big, fat, happy tears tumbled down Rosie's cheeks.

"Hell yes!" she screamed before hunching down and latching her lips onto her fiancé's.

The crowd cheered in unison. Confetti reserved to welcome the new year fell over us. I let out a contented sigh as I ran my finger over my band-aid and peeled it off.

The next 30 minutes went by swiftly. Rosie became the center of attention as she paraded around flaunting her engagement ring. Chris' chest was puffed out with pride as he showed off his fiancé. And the crowd was vibrant as ever, congratulating the newly betrothed.

After toasting to the couple, I faded away from the background modestly. I walked to the far corner of the club, toward the hallway that led to the restrooms, and went on my phone. I texted Topher and Rebecca, making sure they were fine. Topher didn't reply, Rebecca did. She told me Topher went to bed, and she was waiting to watch the ball drop on live-Tv.

Exiting out of her contact, I scrolled down until I found Noah's name. Impulse took over me and I clicked on the message board, opening our conversations. I scrolled up all the way to the night he left and began reading.

September 4th, 2013

Noah: I'm outside, baby.

Me: Cominggggggggg. 💕💕

Noah: Waitinggggggg. 😍

September 6th, 2013

Me: Call me back.

Me: Please, pick up.

September 7th, 2013

Me: Noah. I need you.

September 8th, 2013

Me: I get it. You're mad at me. You hate me. You think I'm selfish. We're broken up. I get it. I know. Just please pick up or call me. I really need to talk to you.

Me: My dad's dead.

Me: Noah, did you get my last text? MY DAD IS DEAD.

Me: Unbelievable.

September 9th, 2013

Me: Why do you keep sending me to voicemail?

Me: Are you getting my texts at all?

Me: Are you really not going to talk to me? For how long? My dad is fucking dead. Call me, console me, tell me it's going to be okay, help me go through this, do something. At least, read my texts so that I know you know, Noah. Don't fucking leave me on delivered.

Me: I'm sending you the details of his funeral... just in case you want to come.

(Attachment: link)

September 10th, 2013

Me: Why didn't you come to the funeral? I know you're mad at me. I know we're not together anymore. And I know I am to blame for all of that. But would it have killed you to come and pay your condolences? You drove five-plus hours to say goodbye to your ex's mother. What about my dad, Noah? Doesn't he deserve your goodbye?

Me: I'm so sad. Sad is an understatement. I'm devastated. We just buried my dad. He's really gone, Noah. My dad is really gone. I'll never see him again. I'll never see his smile. I'll never hear his jokes. I'll never hold his hands. I don't have a dad anymore.

Me: He was so young, Noah. His hair hadn't gone grey yet. His face hadn't wrinkled yet. My dad was just 45. He was supposed to live till his 70s. The average life expectancy for men is 76 years in the US. He was supposed to have more years with me. Why is he gone too soon? Why did he leave me too soon?

Me: I'm distraught. I'm empty, Noah. My dad took a piece of my heart away with him, you know? Just like you took a chunk of it away with you? I'm vacant. I'm hollow. I'm hurting. I'm hurting, Noah. I feel like I'm going to die. I've never felt so miserable, so helpless, so alone. Please, tell me it gets better. Please, tell me I'll be okay. Please, tell me you love me. Please, tell me something. Anything. Noah, please, please talk to me.

September 15th, 2013

Me: You blocked me, didn't you? That's why I always go straight to your voicemail. That's why you never read my texts. Why? What did I do to you? Did I text you too much? Did I call you too much? Do you not love me anymore?

Me: You blocked me on Instagram too?

Me: and Twitter.

Me: and Facebook.

Me: On Snapchat, too? Wow.

Me: I only ever did what I did out of love. I only ever asked you to stay because I love you. I love you so much, Noah. I can explain. I can apologize. I can beg. But what would come out of it? Clearly, you want nothing to do with me.

October 8th, 2013

Me: I'll wait. You said you'd come back when you left, so I'll wait. I'll wait for you.

December 6th, 2013

Me: Happy Birthday. I'm waiting.

January 1st, 2014

Me: I dropped out of college. I moved back to Jersey. I live in Paterson now. My life is a mess, but I miss you every day.

February 8th, 2014

Me: Life's so fucking hard. I am so unhappy. I hate the world.

May 1st, 2014

Me: Happy birthday to me. No one remembered. Not even my mom.

Me: I really expected a text from you today. I am so dumb. I always set myself up for disappointment.

July 4th, 2014

Me: Happy anniversary. I love you. I'm waiting for you.

December 6th, 2014

Me: Happy Birthday... still waiting.

Just as my thumbs hovered above my keyboard and I contemplated typing Happy New Year. Fuck you! the DJ stopped the music to announce it was time for the countdown. The crowd scrammed, abandoning the bar area to go find their counterparts. Rosie paired with Chris. Nick paired with a beautiful, tall blonde. I stood unmoving and watched as every pot found its lid.

Every pot but me, that was. My lid didn't want me.

A sudden wave of sadness hit me like a tidal wave, giving my repressed emotions the power to resurrect. What was left of my heart clenched, finally weeping at the sudden loss of its other half. My throat constricted, finally propelling the lump of unspoken words up to my mouth. Unshed tears blinded my eyes, and a strangled sob escaped my lips.

No. I can't cry. I won't cry. I swallowed once, twice, three times.

I had put Noah in an imaginary box and buried him somewhere deep inside a metaphorical closet. I had put everything that had to do with him: his hoodies, all the letters he had written me, all the flowers he had sent to my place, all the gifts he had given me in a real box and hidden it in my physical closet.

I had successfully avoided crying over him by reminding myself I had greater problems on my hands. I had dulled the sharp ache in my heart by pinching my skin and matching the pain. I had gotten into a habit of humming every time his memories came into my mind. I had covered my tattoo with a band-aid. I hadn't had pizza in a year. I had done everything I could to not feel the pain of losing Noah. To not let the feeling sink in. Because I knew it was going to be insurmountable.

But none of my prior techniques had prepared me for the surge of gloom that swallowed me in that club. It all came crashing down on me. Every emotion I've ever felt raced to come out. Memories I had boxed and buried, resurrected, and played in motion-picture.

Noah's handsome face, his loop-sided smile, the freckle in his eye, the softness of his touch, the poetry in his words, the beauty of his essence, his alluring aura, the way brown eyes sucked me in like a black hole, the way his sweet aroma filled me up like oxygen, the way his brown skin put silk to shame, the way his lips were made to fit mine perfectly, the way he said my name was like I was the most important person in the world, the way he held my hand like I was his lifeline, the way he loved me, the way he left me...

Every single thing, months' worth of memories replayed in my head in slow motion.

"May, when I tell you I love you. I really mean it. I'm not playing with you. How I feel about you is beyond words. I know it's hard to ask you this, but please, don't question my actions. I am willing to go to hell and back to have you and keep you." His words came to life.

"No." I covered my ears and hummed.

Noah turned his back and walked away from me. Noah got into his car and drove away from me in that hospital parking lot.

"No" I closed my eyes and hummed louder.

My lips tingled remembering the earth-shattering kiss they used to get. My body felt forlorn, remembering the way Noah's body made me feel. My tattoo itched, missing the band-aid.

"No." I hugged myself.

He haunted me. My body, my mind, my soul. A year's worth of tears streamed down my face, washing me clean.

I lost my breath as I drowned in a river of tears. I slid to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. My loud cries were masked by the loud laughter of the crowd as they counted numbers backward. I rocked back and forth, soothing myself as Noah's last words stabbed me everywhere.

"Ten."

"Our love isn't selfish, remember?"

"Nine."

"You're not sharing me, Mer!"

"Eight."

"I love you so fucking much."

"Seven."

"I'm wholly yours."

"Six."

"I just want to do the right thing,"

"Five."

"Mer."

"Four."

"You're being stubborn."

"Three."

"This is not the May I know and love."

"Two."

"You're being so fucking selfish."

"One."

"I love you. I'll come back."

I didn't know I could hurt more. I didn't know I could cry more. I covered my eyes with my hands and cried until I had no tears left to cry. The crowd hailed. Couples locked lips. I stayed on the floor looking for the pieces of my heart while nursing my stab wounds alone. A lidless pot.

Someone rushed to me. "It's okay."

I was picked up from the dirty floor. "You're okay."

I was carried to a back seat of a car with so much care. "I'm here."

I was hugged and lulled. "Shh."

My ears were filled with sweet nothings. "I got you."

My forehead was pampered with sweet kisses. "I got you, princess."

True to his words, Nick picked up the pieces of my heart and put them back together. That day and every single day after that.

***

a/n- Who else is disappointed in Noah?

Only four more chapters left until the book ends. I am not ready to let my babies go. 🥺

I'm tempted to write one chapter from Noah's pov, though. Ahhhhh.

My heart is filled with so much gratitude for you guys. Thank you for reading, voting, and commenting. You have no idea how many times I almost gave up writing this story because it got overwhelming. Since it is loosely based on my experience, some of the scenes are very difficult to put into words. It feels like reliving your worst days. But your reads, votes, and comments always encourage me to keep going. ♥️

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