I didn’t sleep very much that night. I kept thinking about Michael, about the fact that now that I’d finally found him again, he had gone and gotten himself engaged.
And everything had felt so right! He had seemed so happy to see me. It had felt like we would pick up almost right where we left off. I had been so hopeful. Now I just felt foolish.
I had to get over him, I told myself. I had to forget, totally forget, the idea of being with him. I had to let go of all my hopes and fantasies and accept that we could only ever be friends. What was the alternative? Trying to steal another woman’s man? On what excuse? That I had loved him first or that I loved him more? That was something I would never do.
I dozed off sometime before morning, and woke up again before it was fully bright, my thoughts of the night before still weighing on my mind. I did my laundry, cleaned my apartment and did some cooking. I had decided to spend at least an hour watching some no-brainer show on one of the entertainment channels, when there was a knock on the door.
Who was it? I wondered. Hardly anybody knocked on my door anymore. People would call, ping or text to say they were right outside your door. Knocking seemed to have gone the way of the Nokia 3310.
The knocking, which had stopped, started again, a little louder this time, maybe it was my landlady, I thought, getting up and going towards the door, she was the only one who would knock as if she had a right to tear the door down. I peered into the peephole.
What was he doing here? .. Read more