Letters to the love that never came home

Under the dull streetlight, Gerald Cooper was leaning against the car door, finishing his last cigarette.

He stomped it out and checked his phone for the tenth time in five minutes. Out of the ten times, nine were to reply to the nine voice notes from the same woman.

The last message he sent was to my best friend, who also happened to be his sister, Elena Cooper. It was to let her know he would send me home safely.

He put the phone down and turned to me with a smile. It was obvious that chatting with that other woman had put him in a good mood.

It was probably due to that that his voice was a lot more casual and relaxed when he spoke to me. "Nessa, you're a grown woman now. You get how adults handle separation cleanly, right?"

He ruffled my hair, the gesture so casual and intimate that it erased the seriousness of this breakup talk between us.

He had never taken me, Nyssa Bennett, seriously. Not even five years ago, when I got drunk and we slept together.

After I sobered up, he sat on the edge of the bed and smoked a full cigarette. Then, blowing a smoke ring, he asked in a flippant tone, "You like me?"

Terrified, I nodded. His response was just a simple chuckle. "Okay, then. Let's be together. Just don't tell Elle. She'd stab me if she found out."

He said it like it was nothing, and I stupidly believed him.

From then on, I became a kind of clingy accessory, always at his side.

I thought time would change him, that eventually, he would see me differently. If only I knew then how wrong I was.

He still dated other women. I was just something he kept around when he was bored.

I dropped my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gerald typing again. The woman he had labeled as his girlfriend in his contacts had only asked for his number at a bar two nights ago.

I took a few deep breaths to suppress the bitterness welling up inside me. Finally, I mustered the courage to ask him the question that I had been too afraid to ask for five long years.

"Gerald, why is everyone else allowed to be your girlfriend except me?"

He froze. Then, he answered with a hint of weariness, "It's not that you can't… It's just that after I agreed to be with you that day, I kind of regretted it.

"Over the past five years, I tried to treat you like a normal woman. But I just couldn't. It's like…anyone can be my girlfriend, except you."

On that quiet street, it was the first time he spoke to me in such a serious tone. His eyes, which reflected my silhouette, seemed tender but cruel.