Prologue
December, freshman year
Letting things go has never been my strong suit.
​
I don’t think it’s anyone’s, really, or at least I tell myself that to feel better. Being able to recognize when a person or situation no longer serves you and then moving on seems like an impossible feat without spending a decent amount of time in therapy first.
​
Maybe you know you should delete the social media app that takes up most of your daily screen time, the app that’s the reason your attention span is so screwed up. It would be so much easier to just cut it out of your life completely and devote the extra time to something more productive, but the idea of not getting book recommendations from the nineteen-year-olds you follow on TikTok makes you a little too sad.
​
Maybe you’ve stayed up way too late replaying an awkward interaction you had on a phone call a few months ago, where the receptionist asked for the name of the doctor who referred you to the office, but you heard it as a yes-or-no question and sat in silence for several painful seconds before it really registered. That poor receptionist probably doesn’t remember any part of this conversation, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to put your face to the voice on the other end of the call if she did, but you obsess over it anyway as you’re falling asleep.
​
Maybe, deep down, you can tell that your boyfriend is pulling away from you, but you keep telling yourself that he’s just busy and things will go back to normal once finals are over. You don’t even want to think about the alternative scenario.
​
I know that it isn’t healthy to hold onto things (or people) so tightly, but I’ve always been a firm believer that you have to fight for what you want. Although, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I fully understand what that means.
​
Which is why when my gut told me that Ben was going to break up with me tonight, I desperately hoped it wasn't true.
​
I had planned to confront him that night about how distant he had been lately, but when I first texted him asking if we could talk, he responded within minutes. That was the first red flag. It had been a long time since he answered me that quickly, at least a couple of months — and we had only been dating for about four.
​
Beyond the simple “hey” we had exchanged when Ben first walked up to my old brick dorm hall, neither one of us had said a word. The second red flag was that silence. I sat on the freezing concrete steps outside the building’s main entrance, trying not to shiver from the wind of an Ann Arbor winter. It had to be close to midnight by now. Final exams were just finishing up this week, so most of the other residents who lived in the building had already gone back home for winter break. The tiny parking lot out front, usually packed with cars and mopeds, was empty except for Ben’s black sedan.
​
He stood on the sidewalk just below me, keeping his distance. He wouldn’t even look at me. The tension hung in the air between us, like a balloon about to pop. I hated that he felt so far away, even though he was right there in front of me.
​
“Are we okay?” I asked finally. There, I took the first step. A small part of me wished that if he really was going to dump me tonight, he would just get it over with.
​
Ben nodded, staying quiet. The look on his face was hard to read.
​
“Ben, talk to me.”
​
He inhaled sharply. “Look, Dani, I know I haven’t been a good boyfriend to you these past few weeks. I’ve had a lot going on, with finals and packing and practices…”
​
“And I get that,” I jumped in. “I don’t want to get in the way of anything. I just miss you, and I want to be there for you.”
​
Okay, that was half-true. I did miss him, but I knew I’d gotten too attached. Despite the countless messages that went unanswered, I still texted him several times a day with updates on my studying or tagged him in social media posts that made me laugh. I wanted to be a good girlfriend, too, a “chill” girlfriend, but that was hard to do when I hardly ever saw him.
​
Right as Ben opened his mouth, I knew what he was going to say next.
​
“I just… I can’t keep doing this, you and me. I don’t think a relationship is the best thing for me right now.”
​
Oh.
​
The weight of his words hit me hard, no matter how much I expected them. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I hated it. I didn’t want him to see me cry. “Was it something I did?” I asked shakily.
​
“No, no,” he said right away. “You’re great.” But his gaze returned to his feet as he said it. “I just can’t give you what you need right now.”
​
The silence from earlier was back in full force. A gust of chilly wind blew past, and Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “It’s late. I should probably head home.” He put his phone away but made no other effort to move.
I stood up slowly on the top step, putting me at his eye level. He turned to look at me, really look at me, and then I could see the pain in his eyes. For a split second, I was glad to know that he’s hurting, too. He pulled me into one last hug, and against my better judgment I latched on tight.
​
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest.
​
“Me, too.”
​
After what felt like an eternity and yet not long enough, he let go. I watched him as he walked away, hoping that he would turn around but knowing that he wouldn't. Only once he turned the corner and was out of sight did I allow myself to cry. The sadness crashed into me like waves, again and again until I felt like I could drown. So this is what heartbreak feels like, I thought to myself. I wanted to remember this moment and to forget it at the same time.
​
Slowly, I grabbed my phone and dialed Haley’s number. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey,” her voice rang through on the other end of the line. “Everything okay?” She had probably watched the whole thing go down from our window, but she did a good job at hiding it.
​
“We broke up.”
​
My roommate was outside in less than a minute. I sank back down on the steps and sobbed, leaning into Haley’s open arms. She held me quietly while I let it all out, until there was nothing left.