Valerie
It's my birthday.
And he just ended it...
No, not just ended it—dropped it like it was some kind of dirty secret. Like he could toss me aside and walk away with no more effort than a flick of his wrist. No fight. No explanation. Just... done.
The thing is, I knew it was coming. I could feel it, like the way you feel a storm brewing in the air before the rain hits. Damon Blackwell was always like that—charming, carefree, effortless. He'd played the game so well, so effortlessly that I almost believed it.
It was all fake.
The relationship. The affection. The whole thing. We both knew it from the start. We were tired of our family's interventions, so we cooked up this ridiculous plan: fake date for a few months, silence the nagging, and go back to pretending we weren't two of the most stubborn people on earth.
What I didn't expect—what I couldn't prepare for—was that I'd start catching feelings.
Damon was supposed to be just a placeholder. A warm body for my family to see me with. I was supposed to have the perfect "boyfriend" to show off to my parents and theirs. But somewhere between the stolen kisses and the lazy Sunday afternoons, I let myself slip. I let myself care.
And now he's walking away from me like it was all nothing.
"Val, we're just ending it here before things get too complicated," Damon says, leaning casually against the table of the small cafe where I've been nursing a latte for the past hour, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach.
I look up at him, forcing a smile. "Agreed. Now is a good time, I was starting to get bored anyway"
He gives a small scoff, his usual relaxed aura in full force, but I catch the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. Damon Blackwell, the ever-confident charmer, the guy who had every girl at school wrapped around his finger, now looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here.
"Well that makes two of us," he says, his voice calm but firm, like he didn't just break up with me a few moments prior.
"Well what are we gonna tell our parents? You know they'll ask questions." It's not a question; it's just a statement of disbelief. We've been together for months, even if it was fake. We've gone to dinners, hung out, and joked around like we were real. Like we were something more than just a lie.
I can't look at him anymore. I can't even look at the damn coffee cup in front of me, because the way my hands are shaking right now might give me away. " We'll just say that it didn't work out, simple." I suppressed a scoff at his comment. Simple? Since when has any of this been simple?
"I'd say it's a bit more complicated than just saying 'Oh we just didn't work out' when we've been acting lovesick for months." I tap the table in front of me, now thinking about this whole ordeal. It was ridiculous, really. I mean even if we weren't exactly "real" we were something.
His jaw tightens, but he keeps his voice even. "People break up all of the time, it's natural, we can just say we had different plans for the future or make something else up. It wouldn't be the first time we lied to them."
Done. I stare at him, this guy who was once everything I thought I wanted. He's so calm, so collected. So unfazed by the fact that I feel like I'm drowning.
I'm not going to beg. I won't. That's not who I am. But still, a laugh slips from my lips, bitter and self-deprecating.
"You're right it wouldn't be the first time, and it's definitely not the last... Happy birthday to me I guess."
He doesn't respond, doesn't try to soften the blow. No explanation. Just... done.
The nerve of him.
I rise from my seat, pushing the chair back with more force than necessary. "Yeah, well, I guess that's it then," I say, my voice a little too sharp, a little too cold. "Goodbye, Damon." And with that, I walk out, not even bothering to look back.
I'd make sure he regrets this.
Damon
I watch her walk away, my chest feeling relieved. It feels too easy, I was expecting at least a glass of water thrown at me or something.
I didn't mean for it to happen like this. I didn't mean for her to get so attached. Hell, I didn't even expect to care about her, but somehow, somewhere, it happened. Maybe it was the way she laughed or the way she was always right there, pushing me to be something more than just the guy who could get whatever he wanted without lifting a finger. Maybe it was the way she always saw through my charm, my easy smile, and made me feel something.
And that's exactly why I had to get rid of her, we weren't meant to be real. This was supposed to be a game. I told myself that a thousand times. Fake date for a few months, then walk away without any baggage. Simple, right? But somewhere along the way, things got complicated.
I wanted to say something to help lighten the blow, I mean after all I did enjoy her company, that much was real. But Val's a smart girl, she'd understand that I was just doing what I had to
Valerie
I don't know how I made it home, but somehow, I'm standing at the doorstep of my house. The weight of the day presses on me like a physical force, but I can't even summon the energy to feel it. My chest is tight, and my thoughts are numb.
I hate men
I open the door, and the familiar warmth of the house surrounds me, the smell of cake and candles, the soft chatter of my parents in the other room, and the sound of my younger brother laughing— I'm upset but I do well to hide it as I see my mom.
"Val, you're here!" She comes over with a bright smile, her arms wide, ready for the birthday hug I should've been excited for. I force a smile in return, but it feels wrong—off. She doesn't notice, or maybe she doesn't want to.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she coos, kissing me on the cheek before stepping back to take in my appearance. Her smile grew in size "Where have you been? We were waiting for you so we could cut the cake!"
I don't want cake, but it's not my poor mother's fault that I'm upset, so I play along.
"I went out to grab a birthday coffee with a few friends." My voice is flat, and I can hear the lie in it. But she doesn't seem to notice.
"Oh fun! Ok, let's cut the cake now, sweetie. Go on and take a seat. You've got presents to open!" My mom gestures toward the table where the cake sits, surrounded by balloons and brightly wrapped gifts.
The family is all gathered, I glance around the room—my dad, sitting in his usual spot, casually flipping through a magazine; my little brother, looking up from his video game for a second to wave at me with a smile that's as carefree as always.
They're all smiling, good for them.
They don't know what just happened. They don't know the truth.
And the truth is, Damon has just ripped my heart out of my chest. But I can't tell them that. I can't tell them that my birthday has been ruined by the first person I was starting to have a genuine interest in. So, I do what I've always done—I fake it. I put on the mask and played the part.
"Thanks, Mom," I say, my voice soft, but it doesn't carry any of the usual warmth. I move toward the table, sit down, and look at the cake. It's a simple white frosting with "Happy Birthday, Valerie" written in black and white letters. I push my feelings aside, it's my birthday which only happens once a year, I'm not about this minor inconvenience ruin it... Besides, I'll eventually get him back whether he likes it or not.
I pick up my fork mechanically, stabbing at the cake in front of me. It tastes like cardboard. But I force myself to swallow a bite.
"Go ahead, sweetheart. Open your presents!" My dad's voice cuts through my haze, a little too chipper, as if he can sense my tenseness.
I nod, forcing another smile as I take the first gift, rip off the paper, and find a set of designer clothes. My mom's idea of a perfect gift, something to make me look good on the outside. It's cute, it's a red Dona Matoshi dress, one that I've had my eye on for a while.
I thank her before seeing my phone buzzing on the table, and I glance at it out of habit. It's a text from Jessica, my best friend since diapers.
Jessica: So, what happened?
I shoot her a quick text back before pocketing the phone.
"Can't talk rn, I'll call you at 8"
She was most likely referring to what happened with me and Damon since I had told her about him asking to meet up.
My mom's voice breaks through the silence that's settled over me. "Valerie, honey, what's wrong? You've barely touched your cake."
I look up to meet her gaze, trying to come up with an excuse for why I wasn't eating this industrial-tasting cake.
"I'm just... Full from the cafe, Mom. It's nothing."
My mom simply nods to my response, apparently believing the answer.
***
The night drags on, and I'm currently in bed thinking about my day. I enjoyed the little get-together with my family and also the chat with Jessica helped lift my mood even more. Talking to her was usually entertaining, especially since being around her could help you validate your sanity. As I continued thinking, my thoughts inevitably landed on Damon.
Our earlier conversation now replaying in my head... I'm not a little side piece to be thrown away whenever you get bored, I'm a Monroe.
I'll make sure Damon of all people remembers that.