Maya

Lena

Maya had always believed that heartbreak should come with instructions.

Something practical.

Something useful.

Perhaps a handbook titled:

SO YOUR BOYFRIEND CHEATED ON YOU WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND: NOW WHAT?

Step one: Cry.

Step two: Eat.

Step three: Delete his number.

Step four: Burn his favorite shirt.

Step five: Book a flight.

Maya had probably already completed steps one through four in her head.

I, however, seemed determined to remain stuck somewhere between step one and step two.

I sat curled up on the corner of my sofa, wrapped in a gray blanket, staring at nothing.

A box of tissues sat beside me.

So did a plate of untouched food.

Maya frowned at it.

“You haven't eaten.”

I didn't respond.

She picked up the container.

“Do you know how offensive it is for me to spend money on good food and watch you stare at it like it's responsible for your breakup?”

A tiny smile appeared on my face.

It disappeared almost immediately.

Maya noticed.

She always noticed.

She'd known me for almost eight years.

Long enough to recognize the difference between I'm okay and I'm trying not to fall apart.

She sat beside me.

“Eat something.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“That's a lie.”

“I'm really not.”

“Lena.”

“What?”

“You ate half a biscuit yesterday.”

“I wasn't hungry.”

“You ate the other half at three in the morning.”

I looked at her.

Maya raised an eyebrow.

“Don't ask how I know.”

Despite myself, I almost laughed.

Almost.

Then my eyes filled with tears.

Maya's expression softened.

“Come here.”

I leaned against her.

For several moments, neither of us spoke.

The apartment was quiet.

Outside, cars moved along the street.

Somewhere upstairs, a child laughed.

Normal life.

It felt cruel that the world could continue when I couldn't.

Maya rubbed my back.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

I sighed.

“I walked in.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They were together.”

Maya's jaw tightened.

“Mm-hmm.”

“She was wearing a robe.”

Maya closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

“And he said he'd been unhappy for months.”

Maya's hand stopped moving.

“And then?”

I swallowed.

“He said it was because I'd gained weight.”

Maya's expression changed.

“And then?”

“He said he didn't feel attracted to me anymore.”

Silence.

Maya stared at the wall.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm.

Too calm.

“So let me get this straight.”

I looked at her.

“He cheats on you with your best friend, blames your body, and somehow you're the one sitting here wondering if you're good enough?”

I looked away.

Maya gently caught my chin and turned my face back toward her.

“Look at me.”

I did.

“Daniel cheated.”

“I know.”

“Sophie betrayed you.”

“I know.”

“Daniel then tried to make his disgusting decision your fault.”

Tears slid down my cheeks.

“I know.”

“So why are you punishing yourself?”

My lips trembled.

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Maya softened.

“Because you loved him.”

That broke something inside me.

I covered my face.

Maya pulled me close.

I cried.

Not the quiet tears I'd cried alone.

The ugly, uncontrollable kind.

The kind that left me gasping for breath.

Maya held me through all of it.

Eventually, I whispered:

“I feel stupid.”

“You're not stupid.”

“I should have known.”

“You trusted your boyfriend.”

“I trusted Sophie.”

“That’s not stupidity.”

Maya paused.

“That’s being human.”

I wiped my face.

“I gave him three years.”

Maya nodded.

“I know.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Nothing.”

I frowned.

“Nothing?”

“You don't have to turn three years into something useful.”

Maya shrugged.

“Sometimes three years are just three years.”

I stared at her.

“That's depressing.”

“Reality is occasionally rude.”

A weak laugh escaped me.

Maya smiled.

“There she is.”

“Who?”

“My girl.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I'm still miserable.”

“I know.”

“You can't fix this.”

“I know.”

“So why are you acting like you can?”

Maya leaned back.

“Because I don't need to fix you.”

I went quiet.

“You aren't broken, Lena.”

The words settled between us.

Maya reached for the tissue box and handed me another tissue.

“You've been hurt. There's a difference.”

I looked down.

For the first time, I let myself consider that maybe Maya was right.

Maybe I wasn't broken.

Maybe I was simply wounded.

And wounded things could heal.

Eventually.

But the problem with grief was that it didn't disappear simply because someone said the right thing.

It waited.

It waited in the silence after Maya stopped talking.

It waited when I looked at my phone and saw Daniel's name still buried in my contacts.

It waited when I remembered the stupid little routines we'd built over three years.

His morning messages.

His calls during lunch.

The way I used to complain about him leaving his shoes in the hallway.

The way he'd steal food from my plate and pretend he hadn't.

Three years of ordinary things.

Three years of memories I hadn't realized I was going to have to mourn.

I suddenly wondered if that was what hurt the most.

Not just losing him.

Losing the future I'd imagined with him.

The apartment we'd joked about getting.

The holidays.

The trips.

The stupid arguments we'd promised we'd eventually laugh about.

All of it had existed so clearly in my head.

And now it was gone.

Not slowly.

Not gently.

Gone in one afternoon.

I pressed my palms against my eyes.

“I keep remembering things.”

Maya didn't interrupt.

“Little things.”

My voice cracked.

“And then I remember that he was doing all of that while he was seeing her.”

Maya's face tightened.

“I know.”

“I don't understand how someone can tell you they love you and lie to you at the same time.”

Maya reached for my hand.

“Some people are very good at separating what they want from what they owe other people.”

I stared at our joined hands.

“I wish I could hate him.”

“You don't have to.”

“I think it would be easier.”

“Maybe.”

I swallowed.

“But you loved him, Lena. You don't stop loving someone just because you finally realize they don't deserve your love.”

That made my chest ache.

I leaned back against the sofa.

For a while, I said nothing.

Maybe healing wasn't going to feel like freedom at first.

Maybe it was going to feel like surviving one hour at a time.

And right now, I was barely surviving the hour.

---

An hour later, Maya stood in my kitchen.

She opened the refrigerator.

“Your refrigerator is depressing.”

I looked up from the sofa.

“What?”

“You have three bottles of water, half a lemon, and something in this container that I don't trust.”

“I've been busy.”

“Clearly.”

Maya closed the refrigerator.

“We're going shopping.”

I groaned.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I don't want to go anywhere.”

“Exactly why we're going.”

“Maya.”

“You're not spending the next week wearing pajamas and stalking Daniel's social media.”

I looked offended.

“I haven't stalked him.”

Maya stared at me.

I looked away.

“Much.”

Maya laughed.

She grabbed her purse.

“Get dressed.”

“I don't want to.”

“Then I'll dress you myself.”

“You wouldn't.”

Maya smiled.

“Test me.”

---

Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of my wardrobe.

I stared at the clothes.

“I don't know what to wear.”

“Something that makes you feel good.”

“I don't feel good.”

Maya leaned against the door.

“Then something that makes you remember what good feels like.”

I looked at her.

Maya nodded toward the wardrobe.

“Come on.”

I pulled out a pair of jeans.

“No.”

A black dress.

“No.”

A loose sweater.

Maya frowned.

“No.”

I sighed.

“Then what?”

Maya walked over and reached into the wardrobe.

She pulled out a bright blue blouse I hadn't worn in months.

“This.”

“I hate that.”

“You loved it.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

I didn't answer.

Maya held the blouse against me.

“Before Daniel decided you weren't worth loving?”

My eyes dropped.

Maya immediately softened.

“Sorry.”

She handed it to me.

“But I'm serious.”

“You don't have to dress like someone else.”

She looked me directly in the eyes.

“You just have to stop dressing like someone who's disappeared.”

I stared at the blouse.

Slowly, I took it.

I changed without saying anything.

When I stepped out of my room, Maya looked me up and down.

She smiled.

“There.”

“What?”

“You look like Lena.”

I glanced at myself.

For a second, I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me.

Not because I looked different.

Because I looked familiar.

Like someone I had forgotten existed.

---

We went to the shopping center.

I expected to feel miserable.

Instead, Maya made it impossible.

She dragged me into stores.

Made ridiculous comments about mannequins.

Tried on sunglasses that made her look like a celebrity hiding from paparazzi.

At one point, Maya walked out of a changing room wearing a ridiculous sequined jacket.

I burst out laughing.

“You look insane.”

Maya struck a pose.

“Insanely expensive.”

“You look like a disco ball.”

“A beautiful disco ball.”

I laughed again.

A real laugh.

Maya noticed.

She didn't say anything.

She simply smiled.

We continued walking.

For the first time in days, I wasn't thinking about Daniel every second.

I was just Lena.

Shopping with my best friend.

Laughing.

Breathing.

Existing.

Then Maya stopped.

“Lena.”

“What?”

She pointed toward a travel agency display.

A photograph filled the screen.

The Eiffel Tower illuminated against a dark Parisian sky.

I stared at it.

Paris.

Something about the image made my chest ache.

“Beautiful,” Maya said.

I nodded.

“Very.”

Maya looked at me.

Then at the Eiffel Tower.

Then back at me.

A mischievous smile slowly appeared on her face.

I immediately narrowed my eyes.

“No.”

“You don't even know what I'm thinking.”

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“Your dangerous look.”

Maya laughed.

“I have no dangerous looks.”

“You absolutely do.”

Maya pulled out her phone.

I watched suspiciously.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Maya.”

“Relax.”

She tapped her screen several times.

Then slipped the phone back into her purse.

I stared at her.

“What did you do?”

Maya smiled.

“I bought us tickets.”

I blinked.

“Tickets?”

“Yes.”

“To what?”

Maya's smile widened.

“Paris.”

I stared at her.

For several seconds, I thought she was joking.

Then I noticed the excitement in her eyes.

“You didn't.”

“I did.”

“Maya.”

“Three weeks.”

My mouth fell open.

“Three weeks?”

“Three beautiful weeks.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I've never been more serious.”

I shook my head.

“I can't just go to Paris.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

I searched for an answer.

Maya waited.

I sighed.

“I have work.”

“I already checked.”

“My apartment.”

“I already arranged for someone to check on it.”

“My money.”

“Already handled.”

I stared at her.

“You planned this?”

Maya smiled proudly.

“While you were crying.”

I couldn't help it.

I laughed.

Maya grinned.

“There she is.”

I shook my head.

“You're crazy.”

“Maybe.”

Maya slipped her arm through mine.

“But I'm crazy with plane tickets.”

I looked once more at the Eiffel Tower.

For the first time since Daniel's betrayal, something unfamiliar stirred inside me.

Not happiness.

Not yet.

Something smaller.

Hope.

“I can't just run away from my problems.”

Maya squeezed my arm.

“We're not running away.”

She smiled.

“We're giving your problems three weeks to survive without you.”

I laughed.

A genuine laugh.

The first one that had reached my eyes in days.

Maya smiled.

“So?”

I looked at the Eiffel Tower.

Then at my best friend.

Then back at the picture.

“Three weeks?”

“Three weeks.”

“No Daniel?”

“No Daniel.”

“No Sophie?”

“Absolutely no Sophie.”

“No dating?”

“Definitely no dating.”

“No revenge?”

Maya considered it.

“Fine.”

I smiled.

Maya held out her hand.

“Deal?”

I looked at it.

Then took it.

“Deal.”

Maya squeezed my hand.

“Good.”

She pulled me toward the exit.

“Because Paris is waiting.”

And for the first time since my world had fallen apart, I allowed myself to believe that perhaps mine wasn't ending.

Perhaps it was simply changing.

I just didn't know yet how much.

Maybe that three weeks could be long enough to become a different person.

Maybe a city I'd never seen before would soon become the place where I'd begin finding pieces of myself I'd thought were gone forever.

Maybe Paris wasn't going to give me the escape I thought I wanted.

I sighed.

But then, hell yeah!

Paris was waiting.