she had thought wrong. She squirmed in her seat
a little at his sudden change in mood. She couldn’t help acknowledge, however, the
smallest yet undeniably present relief she felt at the destruction of the
pseudo-perfect girlfriend she had conjured earlier.
He was staring at her with an unreadable expression by the time she
looked back at him.
“What about boyfriends? Do you have one?”
The question caught her off guard, and she just shook her head in
response.
He smiled at her, pleased with her answer. “But you’ve had
boyfriends before…”
“Yes, of course.”
“How many?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, clearly uncomfortable
with the turn the conversation was taking. “Two.”
“Just two?”
“Well… yes… they were long-term kinda relationships…”
“Tell me about them.”
“Okay…” Her discomfort was palpable. “I met Jarred in school when I
was sixteen. We were high school sweethearts. We were together for two years, then
he went off to college, and we broke it off.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who broke it off?”
“It was mutual.”
“It’s never mutual. Who made the decision?”
She took a deep breath. “I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, we were growing apart… He was a really nice guy. I
just… we just grew apart.”
“And the other?”
“Eric?” Her jaw tensed.
He nodded.
“Eric too was a nice guy,” she responded mechanically, her eyes
darting about the room.
“So you like nice guys,” he remarked unconvinced, barely
restraining a smirk.
“Well… yes… that’s pretty normal,” she replied defensively.
“You’d be surprised…” he purred, his eyes dark, his voice silky,
then added in a commanding tone, “Go on, and what happened with Eric ?”
“I met him in college. We were together for three years. It didn’t
work out.” She stuck to the facts, steering clear of the painful emotions associated
with his memory.
“Why didn’t it work out?” he asked, intrigued by the
distress in her eyes, and strangely, aggravated that another was the cause.
She took a long breath, closing her eyes, as if prepping herself.
“He proposed.”
His brows shut up in surprise. “And so you broke up with him? Maybe
she doesn’t like the nice guys so much after all…” he teased.
“No. It wasn’t like that… I didn’t want to break up,” she
confessed, fiddling nervously with her fingers.
His silent stare made it clear further information was
required.
“He wanted children.” Her voice cracked.
“And you didn’t?”
“No… I couldn’t… I can’t… have children.” She finally looked up at
him, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
She expected him to badger her further, to laugh, to be cruel, but
he remained silent, staring at her intently.
No one ever knew, not even Eric. She had wanted to tell him, but a
voice inside of her warned her against it. He would have stayed. And she would have
hated herself for making him give up his dream, and he would have resented her just
as much for it. So she remained quiet when he called her cold and heartless, held
back her tears as he threw the ring to the floor, and stormed off, slamming the door
on his way out. She watched him leave, crying by herself in the one-bedroom studio.
She picked up the gold band containing the tiniest diamond possible and wept. It had
taken him months to save up for it. It had taken her one word to break its
magic.
Only Peter ever knew. Always, Peter. It was him who made the
appointment and sat by her side at the doctor’s office. She was only fifteen, and
her periods had failed to start. Blurry memories of that day, long tucked away in
the recesses of her mind, resurfaced by pieces. A faceless white coat, white hair,
white walls. Words like primary amenorrhea, congenital defect, failure of the ovary
to receive or maintain eggs… They didn’t mean anythingto her then.
If anything, she
a little at his sudden change in mood. She couldn’t help acknowledge, however, the
smallest yet undeniably present relief she felt at the destruction of the
pseudo-perfect girlfriend she had conjured earlier.
He was staring at her with an unreadable expression by the time she
looked back at him.
“What about boyfriends? Do you have one?”
The question caught her off guard, and she just shook her head in
response.
He smiled at her, pleased with her answer. “But you’ve had
boyfriends before…”
“Yes, of course.”
“How many?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, clearly uncomfortable
with the turn the conversation was taking. “Two.”
“Just two?”
“Well… yes… they were long-term kinda relationships…”
“Tell me about them.”
“Okay…” Her discomfort was palpable. “I met Jarred in school when I
was sixteen. We were high school sweethearts. We were together for two years, then
he went off to college, and we broke it off.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Who broke it off?”
“It was mutual.”
“It’s never mutual. Who made the decision?”
She took a deep breath. “I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, we were growing apart… He was a really nice guy. I
just… we just grew apart.”
“And the other?”
“Eric?” Her jaw tensed.
He nodded.
“Eric too was a nice guy,” she responded mechanically, her eyes
darting about the room.
“So you like nice guys,” he remarked unconvinced, barely
restraining a smirk.
“Well… yes… that’s pretty normal,” she replied defensively.
“You’d be surprised…” he purred, his eyes dark, his voice silky,
then added in a commanding tone, “Go on, and what happened with Eric ?”
“I met him in college. We were together for three years. It didn’t
work out.” She stuck to the facts, steering clear of the painful emotions associated
with his memory.
“Why didn’t it work out?” he asked, intrigued by the
distress in her eyes, and strangely, aggravated that another was the cause.
She took a long breath, closing her eyes, as if prepping herself.
“He proposed.”
His brows shut up in surprise. “And so you broke up with him? Maybe
she doesn’t like the nice guys so much after all…” he teased.
“No. It wasn’t like that… I didn’t want to break up,” she
confessed, fiddling nervously with her fingers.
His silent stare made it clear further information was
required.
“He wanted children.” Her voice cracked.
“And you didn’t?”
“No… I couldn’t… I can’t… have children.” She finally looked up at
him, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
She expected him to badger her further, to laugh, to be cruel, but
he remained silent, staring at her intently.
No one ever knew, not even Eric. She had wanted to tell him, but a
voice inside of her warned her against it. He would have stayed. And she would have
hated herself for making him give up his dream, and he would have resented her just
as much for it. So she remained quiet when he called her cold and heartless, held
back her tears as he threw the ring to the floor, and stormed off, slamming the door
on his way out. She watched him leave, crying by herself in the one-bedroom studio.
She picked up the gold band containing the tiniest diamond possible and wept. It had
taken him months to save up for it. It had taken her one word to break its
magic.
Only Peter ever knew. Always, Peter. It was him who made the
appointment and sat by her side at the doctor’s office. She was only fifteen, and
her periods had failed to start. Blurry memories of that day, long tucked away in
the recesses of her mind, resurfaced by pieces. A faceless white coat, white hair,
white walls. Words like primary amenorrhea, congenital defect, failure of the ovary
to receive or maintain eggs… They didn’t mean anythingto her then.
If anything, she
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