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"But how am I supposed to get home?" I asked, my voice vulnerable. "You were going to drive me because the subway’s scary this late at night, remember?"
Jeremy hesitated for a fleeting moment, his gaze flickering with indecision and anger.
Finally, he offered a response that left me stunned and hurt. "Maybe you can try calling Cole back for a ride?” he suggested indifferently as if it were inconsequential.
I blinked in astonishment, my stomach twisting into knots.
With that final blow, Jeremy turned and left the restaurant, leaving me feeling broken and alone amidst the remnants of our ruined night out.
Chapter Twenty
JEREMY
Walkingoutoftherestaurant, an insistent guilt clung to me, refusing to loosen its grip on my heart. Jill remained seated. Her eyes were filled with vulnerability, and yet I chose to walk away.
It felt like I abandoned her, which tugged at my conscience, urging me to turn back and make amends, ensuring her safe journey home.
But I was angry, and my anger won out.
I crossed the parking garage, got into my car, and started the engine, driving away from the horrible scene and all the confusing events of the evening.
The unexpected text from Cole, her ex-lover, had cast a shadow over our dinner, resurrecting my trust issues that had finally started to go dormant. Despite my desperate desire to believe and trust Jill, previous experiences had left me cautious.
Traveling along dimly lit streets, the soft hum of the engine provided a backdrop for my racing thoughts. The protection of my heart became paramount. I would not permit anyone into my life who might shatter me.
Yet, as I remained keenly aware of the vacant passenger seat beside me, an overwhelming emptiness settled deep in my chest. Leaving Jill's side felt akin to abandoning the potential for something genuine and significant. She had laid herself bare before me—sharing tales of her past and inviting me into her world. I was grappling with the decision to cut her out of mine.
Eventually, I made it home.
With a heavy heart, I switched off the engine and thought about heading inside, but I could not muster the courage to confront an empty house. I decided, instead, to pull back out of the driveway and drive away.
As I meandered through familiar streets, thoughts about Jill raced.
Familiar scenery guided me toward a secluded waterfront spot that had long been my sanctuary for solitude and introspection. Moonlight shimmered upon gentle waves—a serene glow that momentarily calmed my racing thoughts.
Sighing, I reached for my phone, unlocked my gallery, and began scrolling through photographs of my ex and me. As I did, memories resurfaced, recollections of love shared and the pain that had ultimately ripped me apart entirely.
One picture showed us smiling, arms entwined before a picturesque sunset. It was a snapshot of a vacation where I still believed our love was indestructible.
A swipe revealed another image that clenched my heart as I looked at it. We were on my friend’s boat, enjoying a summer on the lake. Candidly caught in a moment of unadulterated joy, our smiles concealed a world of anguish and betrayal.
Memories of lies, broken promises, and the ensuing heartache flooded me all at once.
My past had schooled me in the duality of love—a feeling capable of dispensing both euphoria and torment. I refused to be blindsided anymore.
I sighed heavily and took one last look at the album, then pressed on it, allowing the entire album to be selected. Then, I hit delete, casting all memories of my ex and me into oblivion.
As if it were some ceremonial release of bygone days, deleting the photos felt like I was purging remnants of the past.
The once cherished images, brimming with love and laughter, had transformed into agonizing reminders of my lost happiness. I could no longer allow them to linger and haunt me relentlessly. I watched each photo vanish from the image roll, removing themselves from my phone and memory in a single file.
With each deleted photo, flashes of memories surfaced, memories I had long struggled to bury beneath the debris of my history.
My existence hadn't perpetually been riddled with self-doubt and an aversion to vulnerability. At a time, I stood as a different person, unafraid of giving and receiving love.
I ventured into the Air Force, dreaming of serving my country, protecting the defenseless, and profoundly impacting the world. Though military life presented its share of trials, my resilience and determination prevailed. It wasn't until that fateful day during a routine mission in Afghanistan that everything came crashing around me.
Enemy fire struck our helicopter, resulting in a catastrophic crash. The impact was brutal, and I counted myself fortunate to have escaped with my life intact. However, fate dealt me an unfavorable hand regarding the injuries I sustained. The medical professionals informed me that walking again might forever elude my grasp. My aspirations for a flourishing military career shattered like the glass of that aircraft windshield.
