You

You’re standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of sweats. And I’m becoming increasingly aware of the man holding my hand, waiting for an introduction and to be shown where we’ll be sleeping. You and I make eye contact. My insides squirm. Are my palms starting to sweat? Can he feel my pulse beginning to race? The air is thickening and I can barely breathe.

I’m saved by your younger sister. She has gotten so big. And it hurts a bit to realize how much time has passed since the last time I saw you. She smiles and introduces herself, then points towards our room and asks if the man I’m with has seen it yet. When he shakes his head, she takes his other hand and begins to pull us towards it. You don’t stop her. Our gazes connect one last time before you turn down the hall. I’m torn between relief and disappointment that you’re gone.

The room is large and dimly lit. I brought most of our belongings last week when you had told me there was a spare room we could rent if we needed. We hadn’t spoken in months, but you saw my Facebook post about looking for a place to live and had the space. Boxes line the walls, leaving a narrow path around the already made bed. Your sister shows the man around, pointing to outlets and letting him know where the two different doors go to. One is our own bathroom, which she says we’re lucky to have. She has to share with you. Then she leaves.

“Are you sleepy?” the man asks me. My boyfriend - he’s my boyfriend. He has been for years.

I just smile at him and nod. I know that if I try to speak, he’ll sense something is wrong. I’ll have to lie to him. And he doesn’t deserve lies. It’s nicer to just keep my mouth shut.

The days pass slowly. Each momentary glance as we cross paths sends my heart fluttering out of my chest and fills me with shame and guilt. I only hear your voice as you parent your sister. And it intensifies the ache in my chest. Watching you raise her alone is heartbreaking. We never talked about your loss. You were already distancing yourself by then. But I wanted to be there for you so badly.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of quiet lately,” my boyfriend asks. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I change into something more comfortable.

I pull on my favorite oversized sweater and answer, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been tiring getting unpacked and settled in.”

He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, “Then relax. There’s no rush to get everything done at once. Let’s just take a nap and then go out for dinner.”

We curl up on the bed. I wait for his breathing to slow and deepen so I can slip away. The feel of his warmth makes me anxious and irritable. It’s suffocating. Every day it’s just a little harder to look at him. He has done nothing wrong. And I do love him. But I just need to get away.

Sure he’s asleep, I tiptoe out of the room and close the door as quietly as possible. The living room is empty, so I get comfortable, stretch out on the couch, and find a movie on Netflix. I need a distraction.

The second you enter the room, I’m fully aware of your presence. You don’t say a word as you lounge on the couch beside me. Our skin touches, and I feel you staring. The thought of eye contact is terrifying, but I look anyways. We don’t need to speak, because in that moment we both know. Twelve years’ worth of suppressed emotions and unshared feelings bubble to the surface. They consume, drowning me in total bliss and complete devastation. It’s a simple touch. But it’s all I need to know that you have ruined me. My mind flashed to the man asleep in the other room. Nobody else could ever love me as completely as he does. But it is shattered. When I go back in there, I will crumble as I break his heart or I break mine.

You look away. But you don’t move, leaving the flames growing from where our bodies meet. I know I should break it off. I should go pretend to nap with the man who would never hurt me. But I can’t. The flames will burn and destroy until you leave and I am empty.