Chapter 1 - Then
I'm not happy. I haven’t been happy for a long time now. It's been 3 years since my boyfriend and I started dating and almost the same amount of time since I started pretending I was happy.
There are so many nights, more than I care to count, where I find myself sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor, crying quietly into the dark while Noah sleeps peacefully in the next room. In those hours, when the rest of the world is silent, I try to piece it all together. I trace the cracks in us, trying to make sense of how a love that was supposed to lift me up became something I have to survive. When I look back, trying to find the exact moment the shift began, my mind always goes to the very start.
The first incident, the one that would quietly set the tone for everything that followed, happened just a month into our relationship, during a family vacation that was supposed to be special. It was my first time seeing the sea, something I had always imagined differently. But somehow, that trip was overshadowed by tension, by whispers I didn't understand at the time; my family was convinced that I was controlling him, that I was the one keeping him from enjoying his time there.
But no one knew the truth behind my actions, the conversations we had when my family wasn't around. At that time, they felt harmless to me. Now, looking back, I can see how it all must have looked.
Over the years, things between us changed. The affection he once gave so freely slowly faded, replaced by distance and distraction. He spent most of his time playing games, and if I wanted even a moment together, I had to ask for it, sometimes for days before it happened.
There were so many evenings I came home from work exhausted and hungry, only to find him lying in bed, watching anime, while the apartment was in chaos. If I asked for help, I was often met with things like, “I’m too lazy right now,” or “I’ll do it tomorrow.” And slowly, without me even realizing it at first, something in me began to break.
The hardest part was that it wasn't always bad. Noah wasn't a bad person, and he wasn't cruel. In between the long stretches of distance, there were moments when he could be so sweet, so deeply attentive and caring when he wanted to be. It was those fleeting moments of warmth that kept me holding on, reminding me of the boy I fell in love with and making me believe we could find our way back to each other. He was just as lost as I was.
I still remember that one afternoon he came home from work, holding a small bouquet of flowers. He had spotted them growing in a garden on his walk back, thought of me, and picked them just to make my day a little better. Or the time close to Christmas, when he surprised me with my favorite chocolate, the special holiday kind that came packaged with a little plush toy, because he knew how much I loved it.
He had it in him to notice me, to care so intentionally. Holding onto those memories made it easy to convince myself that the distant version of him was just a temporary phase.
Ever since we started dating, we talked about having a family one day, a home filled with laughter, with kids running around. I wanted that future so badly. But every time I saw his lack of effort, his disinterest in helping, in making time for us, in choosing anything over his games, that future I held onto started to fall apart, piece by piece.
With time, we started drifting further and further apart. Our intimacy faded somewhere along the way, lost in the middle of everything that was falling apart around us. We used to cuddle, kiss, and show affection so naturally, but by the time things began to crumble, those moments had quietly disappeared.
And while all of this was happening, no one seemed to notice that something was wrong. Our friends saw us as the perfect couple. Our families kept feeding into the future I once dreamed of. All I could do was put on a happy face, smile, and pretend I was living the life everyone else was convinced I had.
We often spent weekends away with our friends. Those nights were always the same in the best way... drinking, playing games, and long conversations about everything we had missed in each other’s lives, especially now that some of them were about to move away and we wouldn't get to see each other as often anymore.
That night started just like the rest. We gathered, laughed, and talked about what we wanted to do. And after a long time, we decided to play beer pong. Since I wasn't drinking, I stayed on the side, watching them play. Everything was going well at first, but after a while I got bored and wanted to try a shot myself. Not wanting to take anyone else’s turn, I asked my boyfriend instead.
"Hey, Noah... Can I please try a shot when your turn comes?”
"Uh, okay, I guess," said Noah.
I got up and moved to the end of the table, waiting. After a few more rounds, it was finally my turn. I reached for the ball, getting ready to throw, when I heard him.
"Let Jade shoot it instead. Come on! You are not even playing. Just let her! Come, Jade, come."
Of course, I stepped back and let Jade take the shot without saying anything. In that moment, everything hit at once: embarrassment, sadness, and a quiet kind of disappointment. But more than anything, I kept thinking about how little my feelings seemed to matter to him, how easily he could make me feel small in front of everyone else. I just sat there, speechless, watching as something so simple as letting me take a turn was set aside for someone who had already played.
After that round ended, Tyler, who was next, came up to me and offered me his turn. But by then, it was about the game anymore. Something so small had turned into something bigger. It wasn't about the game but about how easily my feelings, my need to be included, had been brushed aside. I couldn't understand how, whenever the situation was reversed, I always made sure he felt seen, included, and considered. But who was doing that for me when the person I loved was too busy making sure someone else felt the things I had been quietly craving from him?
After I took my turn, I quietly excused myself and went straight to our room. I needed space...a moment to breathe. Everything felt overwhelming, like it was all catching up to me at once. What hurt the most was realizing that the people around me had paid more attention to me than the person who was supposed to care the most. I lay down on the bed and started crying, trying to calm down while letting everything I had been holding in finally slip out.
He came into the room later, once the game was over. Not to check on me, but just to use the bathroom before heading back out again. Just as he was about to leave, he paused and turned to look at me.
"What are you doing in here? Why aren't you outside with everyone else?
"I just needed some time alone. I'll come out in a minute.” I didn't want to go into too much detail. I already knew it wouldn't lead anywhere, so I kept it to myself.
"Hey…why are you crying? What happened?" he asked, sounding confused.
"Nothing. I just felt a little overwhelmed.” I tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal.
"Please tell me it’s not because of the game.”
"It's just…you cared more about letting her play than giving me one single turn. I felt so small, Noah.” I tried to explain through my tears, barely making sense of everything I was feeling.
"Don't be so dramatic, Layla. It was nothing... just a game. You know I care. It's not like that. You weren't even drinking, so I just thought she could take it.”
"Yeah…you're right. I'm sorry. I just got overwhelmed and didn't know how to deal with it.” I forced a small smile. “You can go back out. I'll come in a minute.” It was the same smile everyone knew, the one that made everything seem fine.
After every argument, I was left questioning myself. My reactions, my emotions...everything felt wrong, like I had overreacted to something that shouldn't have mattered in the first place. It always came back to the same questions... Why do I get so upset over things like this? Why do I cry in the middle of conversations? Why don’t I trust him more? Why do I always expect the worst instead of accepting what's right in front of me?
And he, out of everyone around me, should have understood. I wasn't crazy... even if, at times, he made me feel like I was. But the truth behind all of it was simple: I didn't trust him.
Not anymore.
