My boyfriend married the woman he asked me not to worry about. I used to complain about her. When I did, he called her nobody. He told me not to worry my pretty little head. But there he was in the picture I saw, slipping the ring on her finger, smiling. I saw the photos. Her in his arms, wrapped up and cozy like she belonged there. She looked beautiful, I will give her that. And him—he was looking at her with sunshine in his eyes, pure light spilling out of him in a way I never saw when he looked at me. She got the ring. She won.

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And I am here, counting my failures. I have questions that circle like tired birds. What does that make me? The mistress? The fool who believed him?

I have moved past the shock phase, I think. Or maybe I just sprinted through it so fast I did not recognize it. Now all I want is to get over the aching in me. Forget he existed. Forget they exist. Forget I ever loved a man like him. I want to live past this. I am hurting so much, so very much. It sits in my chest like a stone I cannot swallow.

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

I keep patting myself on the back, asking myself to take it easy. *Easy does it, easy does it*, I say, trying to make it feel lighter. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t, so I run to the bathroom to cry a little bit, then back to my table to continue work. I am here, asking for ways to make the pain a little less. Just enough so I can concentrate on work, on my life, on my family. Just for now.

—Vivian

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