Jealousy consumes me, sharp and bitter, a poison I can't seem to shake. Every time Gabe's phone lights up or his gaze lingers somewhere else, it gnaws at me, relentlessly. It isn't fair- this isn't fair. He isn't even mine to lose, not yet, but I'm already mourning the idea of sharing him with someone else.
Cassandra. Her name lingers in my mind like a thorn, catching and tearing at every thought. I haven't even spoken to her beyond polite greetings, but I've already painted her as the woman who takes him from me. And maybe it's my fault for letting this future knowledge wrap itself around my heart like a noose, but how can I ignore it? How can I see Gabe now, so full of promise and possibility, and not think of the man he becomes, the one who leaves me behind?
I hate how she's there, even when she's not. How her presence lingers like a ghost, haunting me, reminding me that I'm temporary. That he'll leave. I'll always be the girl he abandons. The girl he forgets.
But then there are moments, like now, sitting across from him, his gray eyes locked on mine when I forget. When I let myself believe, even for a second, that I'm the only one who matters.
"Why are you so quiet?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with curiosity. We are in his backyard, relaxing a bit after Sunday lunch with his parents. All throughout the meal, I wondered if they knew he was seeing both Cassandra and me at the same time and it made me bitter. Almost rude towards them.
I shrug, unable to meet his gaze. "Just thinking." I am staring at his hateful phone that he is ignoring, on the small table. The ringtone is nearly silent, but my eardrums are irritated by the soft sound.
"About?"
I hesitate. If I tell him the truth, will he understand? Or will he think I'm crazy? "Us," I admit finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
His brow furrows, and he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table between us. "What about us?" He straightens his relaxed position.
"I don't know," I say, forcing a shaky laugh. "If this is even an 'us.'" His expression darkens, and for a moment, I think I've said too much. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Meg, you drive me insane, you know that?"
"What?" I blink, taken aback but it disturbs me what he said, so getting up from my seat I walk towards the house. I need to head back to campus now.
He takes my hand and turns me back towards him, looking down at me, tilting my chin up to meet his fierce eyes. "You're all I think about. All day, every day. And I don't know what to do with that."
My heart stutters in my chest, but before I can respond, he shakes his head, his voice rising slightly. "I think I'm in love with you, Meg," he says, the words spilling out like a confession he's been holding back for too long.
The world tilts. My stomach twists painfully, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. He's not and if he is, this is not the way I wanted to hear it.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "Don't say that." My heart- I can feel the tears on it.
"Why not?" he demands, his voice raw. "It's the truth."
"Because you don't mean it," I snap, my voice trembling. "You can't mean it. Not when…" I trail off, the words catching in my throat. 'Not when I know what will happen. Not when I know you will leave me. For the woman you are seeing now.'
Gabe's expression softens, and he reaches for my hand, his touch warm but hesitant. "Meg, what's going on? Talk to me."
But I can't. Not now. The jealousy, the fear, the pain- it's too much. And the idea of sharing him, of losing him, of watching him fall in love with someone else, is suffocating.
I pull my hand away, wrapping my arms around myself as if I can hold all the broken pieces together. "I just… I-"
He watches me, his eyes searching mine, but he doesn't push. Instead, he nods slowly, his jaw tight. "Okay." I can hear it, not see it- I know him that well. He steps back, giving me space, I feel the weight of my own jealousy settles heavier in my chest. It's consuming me, but I don't know how to let it go. Because even as he stands, inches away, I can already feel him slipping through my fingers.
Especially when his phone receives another message.
"Take me home, Gabriel," I mutter and continue on my way inside the house to the driveway outside.
--
Days later...
"What Ducati?" Gabe questions me when I query about his motorbike. "My monster?" he adds with a grin and throws his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him, shoulder to shoulder as he drives us to dinner a few nights later.
The tension is there but he ignores it.
"I have no idea what that means." I'd just asked him why he showed up with his Ducati that day instead of a car.
"I wish my bike was a Ducati Monster. But my monster is a Kawasaki Ninja. Six fifty." He goes on to say some more about bikes, but I tune him out. One because I do not want to hear about bikes when their voice shrills up in excitement the way he just did and two; I am finding him just plain irritating since movie night in the park.
His phone pings again and I grit my teeth, wanting to shout at him- "Who is it?"- but I keep it inside.
It rings again and I mutter, "So irritating, just answer it. I mean how can I go on a date when it starts this way?" We are heading to a restaurant where we have reservations which were sort of difficult to get because it's Friday and Gabe only called them earlier this afternoon when he spoke with me, on the phone.
We haven't had a real conversation since Sunday, but I missed him so much that it hurt and I agreed to the date because I craved his face. It hurt more than Sunday's argument- or whatever that was.
Pulling his hand away from me, I fold my hands tightly across my dress because the reason for Sunday is also the one for now. The reason behind my irritation of course is the person behind the message.
"Who are you avoiding Gabe?" I holler out, giving him an up-and-down look of disgust. It's Cassandra, I know it.
Gabe drives with one hand on the steering wheel, his other resting on the gearshift. The hum of the car engine fills the tense silence between us. Outside, the city lights blur past, vibrant and alive, in stark contrast to the knot tightening in my chest. My arms are crossed tightly, and I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the buzz of his phone vibrating for the fifth time in the last five minutes.
He exhales, his frustration palpable as he fishes the phone out of his jacket pocket nearing the next red light. He doesn't check the screen but just presses a button and tosses it onto the dash.
"There," he mutters, his tone clipped. "Happy?"
I glare at him, my jaw tightening. "No, Gabe. I'm not happy. Who keeps calling you? And texting you, for that matter?"
He doesn't respond, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he accelerates once the light turns green.
"Gabe," I press, my voice sharper now. "Who are you avoiding?"
"It's no one," he says, his tone carefully neutral. Too neutral. It's not no one. It's the love of his life. The reason he settled for me. His white moonlight.
"Don't give me that," I snap, turning to face him fully. "Your phone's been lighting up like a Christmas tree all night. And now you're putting it on silent? What am I supposed to think?"
He runs a hand through his hair, his movements jerky. "It's not what you think, Meg."
"Then what is it?" I demand, my voice rising despite my best effort to stay calm. "Is it Cassandra?"
At the mention of her name, his head jerks slightly, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he schools his expression. I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "It is her, isn't it?"
"Meg-"
"Don't," I cut him off, my chest heaving with a mixture of anger and panic. "Just tell me the truth, Gabe. Are you sneaking around with her? Or me?" I know it's me because I saw them together at the restaurant with my family before we became- this- whatever we are.
His eyes flick to me, startled, before returning to the road. "What? No! It's not like that."
"Oh, really? Because it sure feels like that," I bite out. "If it's not her, then who is it? Give me something, Gabe, because right now, I feel like an idiot sitting in this car with you."
He sighs heavily, his grip on the wheel tightening again. "It's complicated, Meg."
My laugh this time is louder, almost a bark. "Oh, I love that one. 'It's complicated.' That's exactly what someone says when they're hiding something."
"Meg, you're blowing this out of proportion," he says, his voice rising slightly as he turns the next corner.
I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest. "Take me home," I say, my voice trembling.
"What?"
"I said take me back home," I repeat, louder this time. "I can't do this, Gabe. I can't sit here and pretend everything's fine while you're dodging calls and lying to my face."
"I'm not lying!" he says, his voice almost desperate now.
"Then why won't you tell me the truth?" I counter, my voice cracking.
He didn't answer, his jaw clenched tightly as he checked the rearview, taking another corner that would take us to the restaurant. Suddenly I have no appetite anymore.
"That's what I thought," I whisper, sinking back into my seat. My chest feels like it's caving in, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. It's too much. It was too much ten years ago and too much now.
He suddenly pulls over to the side of the road, the tires silent against the pitch as he puts the car into park.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice sharp, shrill sounding to my ears.
He turns to face me, his gray eyes searching mine. "Megara, listen to me," he says, his voice low but urgent. "I don't know how this got so twisted, but I'm not sneaking around with Cassandra or anyone else. I swear to you."
"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?" I ask, my voice breaking. He's lying straight to my face.
"Because it's personal," he says, running a hand down his face. "And it's not something I'm ready to talk about yet."
I stare at him, my anger wavering but not fully dissipating. "Do you have any idea how that sounds to me, Gabe? Do you know how it feels to be left in the dark like this?" It aches. It's a sharp suffocating weight.
"I know," he says softly, his voice laced with regret. "And I hate that I'm making you feel this way. But you have to trust me, Meg."
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. "Trust? How can I trust you all I see is doubt?" My heart burns and aches simultaneously. The blood in my veins feels as if they are alive- my entire body is exhausted. I'm mentally drained from this duo.
"I'm trying," he says, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm just… I'm not good at this."
"At what?" I snap, wiping my eyes. "At being honest? At being in a relationship?"
"At not screwing everything up," he says, his voice raw and I freeze, his words hitting me harder than I expected. He exhales shakily, looking down at his hands. "I'm terrified, Meg. Terrified of messing this up. Of losing you. I promise I will tell you about her... just not tonight... please."
The sincerity in his voice cracks something in me, but I'm still too hurt to let it fully sink in. Gabe is not sincere- not the older version of him. His carefully crafted words scrape against my brain.
"You don't lose someone by being honest, Gabe," I say quietly. "You lose them by pushing them away. By sneaking around, hiding things, lying to them."
He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'll do better. I promise."
He'll do better. No- he does worst. I want to believe him but the ache in my chest reminds me how fragile trust can be. He had betrayed me in the worst way in our marriage. No, I cannot. I had worked past this- I thought I had. But no, Gabe is not Dan. I had gotten over Dan years ago, met another then married Gabe.
To me Gabe is real. The betrayal is too raw.
"Take me home," I grit out. He had chosen deceit over honesty.
He nods without arguing, putting the car back into gear. As we drive in silence, the tension between us feels heavier than ever, a rift I'm not sure how to bridge.
Gabe and I would spend the remaining semester break this way.