Page 126 of Say My Name

I forget to breathe.

I pull my feet out from beneath his leg and sit upright. Dominic releases me immediately.

“Those are two entirely different things.” The words are out before I can stop them, a wall of logic I throw up instinctively. A child is a plan. A relationship is a vulnerability.

“Are they?”

“A child has defined needs. Responsibilities. Legal protections. We agreed on how decisions will be made and what happens if we disagree.”

“We also agreed we wouldn’t have sex.”

“That was different.”

“Then we agreed sex would happen only during confirmed ovulation windows.”

My voice goes tight. “I remember the contract, Dominic.”

“So do I. I also remember every time we decided it no longer reflected what we wanted.”

His voice remains calm. There is no accusation to push against.

“A relationship isn’t a clause we can amend.”

“No. It’s a choice.”

“It’s a choice someone can stop making whenever they want.” A ghost of a text message, six years old, flashes in my mind.

His expression changes as he understands what I’m actually saying.

I hate that he sees it. I also feel an awful rush of relief because I am tired of carrying this alone.

“You told me someone hurt you,” he says. “You never told me how.”

I look down at my hands, tracing a seam in my leggings. The story sits in my throat like shards of glass. “I met him when I was nineteen. He was a guest lecturer, and afterward, he offered to mentor me.”

The word sounds ugly now. At nineteen, it sounded like opportunity.

“He told me I was gifted. He made introductions and recommended me for positions. He taught me how to walk into rooms where everyone was older and more experienced and make them listen.”

“And you were together?”

“Eventually. By then, he was connected to nearly every part of my professional life. I thought that meant he believed in me.”

“How long?”

“Six years.”

Dominic’s jaw tightens, but he does not interrupt.

“I loved him. I thought we were building a life together. We talked about marriage and children. He made all of it sound inevitable.” My throat burns. “Then one morning, he ended the relationship by text.”

Dominic’s jaw locks.

“He said it was over and that contacting him would only make things more difficult. Six years reduced to a message I could read in under a minute.”

“Elena.”

I went to see him. “I needed him to look at me and explain how someone goes from planning a future with you to refusing to take your call.”