For Aaron.
7:32 p.m.

We were a good couple. And I loved being with you. I loved it when you called me. I loved it when you held my hand.

But then I got the call, one month ago. "I really have to talk to you," you said, "it's important."

You never talked like that before, with your voice shakey and unsure. Maybe there was a rumour going around, I thought. Maybe he needs to clarify it.

How I wish I was right.

"She came to visit us, she was a family friend, and we went down to the pool together. But I love you, and I'm sorry."

I'll never forget the feeling inside, and the self doubt that followed. I stared in the mirror as I listened to you plead, my hands shaking so bad I thought the phone might drop. "Am I not pretty enough?" I asked myself in my mind.

"Jessica, I love you," you say. And I don't believe it. How could someone who loves me hurt me so much? My heart is being ripped out, and you are jumping on it, over and over and over and over and over....

And now, I still talk to you, because no one else is here. And I keep looking at your eyes, the way you used to look at my eyes, and I miss holding your hand.

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