Ten Years of Lies He Never Loved Me

Valentine Henson and I were tangled up for ten whole years.

He wouldn't go public, so I waited. He said he was busy, so I behaved.

Until that night at the bar, when his buddies started egging him on with his childhood friend: "C'mon, wifey, pour one for Val!"

Rosalie Chambers, the girl who'd grown up by his side since they were kids, laughed and settled herself onto his lap.

Valentine didn't push her off. He even leaned down and fixed the strap that had slipped off her shoulder.

I stood outside the booth, holding the hangover tea I'd brought for him.

He saw me.

Our eyes met. His brow creased, just barely.

Then he looked away.

Rosalie leaned into his ear to whisper something, and he tilted his head to listen, the corner of his mouth curving with an indulgent smile.

I stood there for a moment. Then I handed the tea to a server, turned around, and left.

Ten years.

And in his eyes, I didn't even deserve a glance.

I was halfway down the alley when his message came through:

"She had too much to drink and was just messing around. Don't overthink it."

I looked down and typed. My hands were steady.

"Valentine, I'm done waiting for you."

Then I blocked him.

The tenth year of us being together.

The year I finally let go.

...

I walked out of the alley, and the wind rushed in, cold against my back.

A November night. The hangover tea had gone cold long ago, but my palms still held a trace of warmth from the cup.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and realized my fingertips were trembling.

Not from the cold. From the emptiness.

The kind of emptiness that comes when someone reaches into your chest and rips out everything you've been carrying for ten years, and all that's left is a hollow space filled with wind, howling through you.

My phone buzzed again.

I didn't look.

I kept walking and passed a sweet potato cart, steam billowing off it, the sugary smell hitting me in a warm wave.

Back when he used to pick me up after work in the winter, he'd always buy one so I could warm my hands.

His hands were big enough to wrap around my entire fist. He'd walk beside me, complaining that my fingers were cold as a corpse.

"Valentine, your hands are so warm."

"No kidding. I just held a hot sweet potato for you."

I remembered the white puffs of his breath when he talked. The way he'd grab my hand and stuff it into his coat pocket without asking. The flicker of something soft in his eyes when he looked down at me.

I reached the intersection. Red light.

I stopped and stared at the countdown, the numbers glowing an angry red.

Sixty seconds.

An eternity.

My phone started buzzing again. Once. Twice. Three times.

I stared at the name flashing on the screen: "My Val."

I hadn't changed that contact name in ten years. He'd snatched my phone when we first got together and typed it in himself. All this time later, it was still those two words.

The screen lit up and went dark. Went dark and lit up again.

On the sixth call, I picked up.

"Where are you?"

His voice was tight, a little rushed. The background noise was loud, the sound of a bar door swinging open and shut.

Someone called out, "Val, where you going?"

"Walking," I said.

"Look, about what just happened, I swear I didn't know she was gonna do that. Everyone was egging it on and I couldn't just—"

"Valentine."

He paused. "What?"

The light turned green.

I stepped forward. My footsteps were even, one after another. Steady.

"I just changed that contact name," I said.

"...What?"

"You typed it in yourself, remember?" I said. "The contact name. You grabbed my phone and said I could only save that one. No other names allowed."

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

Then he laughed, that half-hearted laugh laced with exasperation. "That's it? You scared me. So change it. Just put it back the way it was."

"I changed it to your full name."

He stopped laughing.

"Valentine Henson," I said. "Your full name."

The wind cut through again. I pulled my coat tighter. On the sidewalk, a couple strolled past arm in arm, the girl holding a stick of candy, the boy leaning down to press a kiss to her hair.