“I never said I was happy!” He said his voice rising slightly in volume. He threw his hands up and let out an exasperated sigh, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” she fired back, laughing bitterly, “You look pretty damn happy to me.” He did, he did look happy. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t be. The woman he had chosen was so different from her; she was beautiful, educated, mature, advanced, loving, and everything else that she just wasn’t. She stared at him, her jaw set as he stared at her in disbelief.

“You obviously don’t know me as well as you assume you do,” his voice quivered as he responded, his tone low and almost threatening. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the ground, something he often did when he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say next. “I just . . .” His voice wavered and he paused again, sighing. It drove her crazy when he did that, though she’d never acknowledged it before. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.” He finished, tilting his head up and locking eyes with her. “She started it and I played along. She wanted me and it was good to feel wanted for a change. I wasn’t second best to her.” He looked away again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That doesn’t mean I’m happy with her.”

She felt anger rise in her chest and she swallowed to push it back down, her skin heating slightly instead. She had never made him second best, but he had always felt that way. He could never see how much she sacrificed to spend time with him or how much time she dedicated only to him, she spent almost every waking moment in the passenger seat of his truck, and he never cared. It was too late to dwell on those things. She knew that. Yet sometimes it was difficult to be patient with him when he implied that she never cared about him like he did for her. His ignorance was torture.

“Why on earth wouldn’t you be happy with her?” she asked through clenched teeth. She held her tongue, trying her best not to yell something that she would regret later. “She’s gorgeous, she treats you well, and you sleep in her bed at night! I haven’t seen you light up like you do for her in months! You wait like a puppy by the door while you wait for her to come home, and you’re telling me you’re not happy? Who do you think you’re kidding?” By the end of her speech she was out of breath and could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes. The things she said were almost pleasant, but she had spit them out with such venom they tasted bitter on her lips; that also could have been the metallic taste of the blood that should’ve been drawn while she was biting her tongue. She was glad she had been able to hold back the things she knew he didn’t want to hear.

He didn’t respond for a long time, he just stared at her in a way that made her feel naked, like he was stripping away the layers of her skin and bones and emotion and staring straight into her most hidden parts. She knew he could see all the things she couldn’t say to him swimming in the space behind her brain, and he knew that she felt him there.

“She’s not you.” He said finally, taking a step back. “She’s not you, and she’ll never be you.” He repeated, lower this time. He nodded once in a very final manner, then turned and started to walk away from her, pausing for a moment to turn and stare just above her head, “But I gave up on being happy a long time ago. That’s why she isn’t you.” The words fell from his lips and dissipated like smoke, barely making it to her ears before both he and his words had vanished, something that felt far too final for her to properly comprehend.

“Maybe I’m not me anymore either.” She whispered after him, “Maybe you’ve taken me with you and didn’t even know.” She took a deep breath and turned as well, starting off in the other direction. After a moment she too turned around to stare at the place where he had stood what was only a moment ago but felt so much longer. “I hope you’re happy.” She finished, before she wandered away without even herself for company.