The Hearts We Hide

01

Miraya

Love always disappointed me.

It was never what I hoped it to be. Somehow, my final act in love was always leaving. Why was I always leaving? In every relationship or friendship that I had lost in my twenty years, I was the one that started the last fight, the one that drew too many boundaries, the one that couldn't forgive a little more. Where was the line between self-respect and self sabotage? 

It bothered me sometimes, the realisation that maybe no one will ever be able to live up to the standards in my head.

There were times when the morbid thought that maybe love wasn't all the books make it out to be entered my head. Like now. Maybe love will only remain this: waiting silently on my boyfriend's couch while all his attention remained on whatever game his friends were playing today.

I could hear his voice through the walls. Cursing, laughing, making plans for the next day. With every moment that passed, I could feel more of me draining out. It was a big deal. I wouldn't ever do this to him. But if I said anything, it would be our third fight in five days and I didn't have it in me to listen to his raised voice yet another time.

Some penguin documentary was playing on the flatscreen in front of me. The bright lights he continuously insisted on leaving on in every room were starting to give me a migraine. Or maybe it was the muffled sound of his voice and the knowledge that he would never enjoy himself that much with me.

I stared at the closed door, wishing I was brave enough to walk in and scream in his face. To tell him he was wrong, to tell him he made plans and he called me over. To tell him I did not want this anymore, want to be treated like that anymore.

Why was I always leaving.

I picked up my bag from the other end of the couch and walked out of his apartment.

I debated sending him a text. But he'd be mad because I was always interrupting him. I'd wait for him to ask and make something up.

He didn't text or call the entire day.

*

"How could you just leave like that without saying anything? I cancelled football last evening because you made me so upset,"

Kaden's face was starting to look a lot like ice. The features I used to find attractive before were becoming more and more like stone. His voice too. There was a time my heart skipped beats at the sound of it. I once went on and on about how comforting his voice was.

"—have any idea what it felt like? I was so excited to have our movie day and you were just gone! I waited for you to call with an explanation but you didn't even have the curtsey to give me that. Where were you?"

"I wanted to throw up."

I detested the way my voice sounded in our conversations. Small. Meek. Who was I becoming? I used to be more than this.

"You got sick? Baby, why didn't you tell me," he moved from his side of the table and slid next to me. "You know I'm always here for you. I would've skipped studying to take care of you. You mean so much to me."

There it was. Like clockwork, the reminder that he would love to make a sacrifice for me. He delighted in letting me know every time he did something for me. He delighted even more in hanging all said sacrifices over my head the few times I got close to breaking up.

"I just didn't feel like talking much," my tongue was heavy in my mouth. "I took meds and slept most of it off. Do you have plans for the weekend?"

"I feel bad every time you ask," he scoffed. "You never have any plans because you only talk to me and I don't want you to feel left out,"

It stung. A few months ago, I would've called him out on it for disrespecting me. I would've told him he was wrong. But the constant arguments had taken most of myself away from me. I was barely a person, only his girlfriend.

"Aren't you going to say anything? Honestly, it feels like I carry most of our conversations these days. What is it with yo—-—-why are you standing up?"

"I feel sick again," I whispered. "I think I need to go home and rest."

"Baby I can drive you. We didn't have to meet if you weren't feeling up to it."

His voice was so soft now, a sharp contrast to how it was barely seconds ago. Maybe he was starting to notice I'm not here again. If he was, I'll wake up to flowers at my door with the sweetest note and like clockwork, the next four days would be rainbows and butterflies.

Was this love? Leaving in the middle of a date, pretending to be sick so the man you love doesn't see you cry because you know he'll argue about that too. Because he'll tell you you're too sensitive, you can't take a joke and you don't know how to be a good girlfriend.

That night, I spent an hour wondering how my life came to this. When did I go from being the centre of attention to the girl who couldn't even get the bare minimum from her boyfriend. I fell asleep with tears burning my eyes. I woke up to a flower bouquet at my door.

Just thinking of you. Get well soon, baby.

-Kaden

A/N: First chapter! If you want, follow me on Instagram @/half.a.poet