A Week

She stared through the screen.

No, that can’t be true.

Of course it is. How could she have been so naïve?

Emotions washed through her. Anger, hurt, sadness.

She probably wasn’t even entitled to feeling those emotions, for she had never let him in. She flirted with the idea that hey, there could be a possibility, but there was never an open door. The key, she kept it protectively close to her heart.

Somehow, it still hurt. She felt betrayed, knowing that he moved on so quickly, like she never meant anything to him. Barely a week has passed. She thought about the predators outside, who would hurl words at her like she was a piece of meat, to be consumed but not understood.

Here she was, scared of coming back home too late because she may be preyed on according to “the way you dress”. The objectivity of women, she hated, for she had been a target despite her conservatism. She could only imagine what other girls had to go through.

She thought about the sweet nothings he said. They made her feel so good at that moment, but what does it matter now? She would never fall for those things, she’d promised herself. Her love language was quality time, and it’s clearer to her than ever. But truth be told, her heart did flutter for she was only human.

How naïve! That she would believe that someone could actually love her, and not the idea of her. It has happened before, and it will happen again.


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