Prologue: + 

“Put your seatbelt on, ma'am.” The flight attendant’s voice was a polite formality. I obeyed, then turned to look out the window. The black sky reminded me, achingly, of Matthew’s eyes. + 

God, I missed him. The last week had been brutal, and being away only amplified my anxiety. My father’s collapse at dinner had been a terrifying shock. A week in a coma, then finally, this morning, a stable awakening. The doctors assured us the tumor wasn’t malignant, but surgery was still required. Thirteen days. Thirteen days to prepare. + 

I’d come home to Matthew, knowing he couldn’t join me at the hospital. I'd pulled him into one of those bone-crushing hugs I was shamelessly addicted to, hoping to absorb some of his strength. Now, descending into the airport, I felt on the verge of tears. I’d held it in for a week, a dam threatening to burst. + 

The rude man behind me finally broke the tension. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I believe this is my seat.” + 

Yes, it was his seat. I moved. And I wanted to cry, a loud, childish wail. That’s what I hate about myself, I guess. Crying is the only way I rinse myself from all the stress. + 

Okay, "hate" is a big word. I just wish I had better control over my emotions. Matthew never gets fed up with my crying. He never makes me feel like I'm too much. He wraps his arms around me and stays silent until I’m done, letting me be. I appreciate that. + 

I’d promised myself never to cry in front of anyone but Matthew. After six months together, he’d asked me to move in. That night, overwhelmed with joy, I’d cried myself to sleep. Now, I don't cry in front of anyone else—not my parents, not Melinda. I hate looking weak, vulnerable. + 

My mother always warned me about trusting people too quickly. She said it makes me vulnerable to deception. So if I can’t stop trusting, at least I can stop *looking* weak, except with Matthew. He would never hurt me. Maybe my mother’s right. Maybe I am too trusting. But isn't that what all relationships are based on? Trust and respect? + 

I’m blessed to have him. He's the absolute boyfriend. Affectionate, sweet, kind, handsome, a good listener. But he’s also…safe. I never question anything around him. I never have doubts. He’s everything I ever wanted. + 

You know how teenagers create a perfect man in their heads? Well, Matthew was mine. Sometimes he’s almost *too* sweet, smothering me with reassurance. But I admit, I feel like my life with him is safer than I hoped it would be. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to feel my heart race a little bit, to experience some kind of tension. + 

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this safety for anything. But sometimes I feel like something is missing. Yet I’d never dare talk to him about it, stir up problems for no reason. It’s just not worth it. + 

I’d wanted to surprise him with my early return, but I decided against it. I remembered our fight last month, when I came back from a school reunion early. He’d been furious, accusing me of ruining his plans. He hated surprises, he’d said, preferring everything to go as planned. + 

A little weird, yes. I chalked it up to a bad mood swing. That same day, we’d almost crossed a line, but I’d pulled back. I wasn’t ready. And I thought maybe he was still mad about that, too. + 

I hadn’t noticed the plane landing until passengers started standing up. I followed them, collected my luggage—two heavy suitcases filled with dresses and shoes, a failed attempt to appease my mother. + 

Finally, I was in a cab, on my way home, beaming with excitement to see Matthew. Once again, my mind drifted. + 

Melinda, my best friend, used to think I wasn't really in love with Matthew. She thought I was deceiving myself. But after I convinced her that I wasn’t desperate for a boyfriend or marriage, she came around. Matthew, since the moment I met him, felt different. He’s…safe. + 

Stepping out of the cab, I paid the driver. As I walked towards our house, I heard a woman’s moan. My mind stumbled. It's the television. Maybe he's just watching porn. That's okay. He's a man after all. Porn is…healthy, in a way. + 

With a heavy breath, I inserted the key into the lock. Just as I was about to step inside, I heard Matthew moaning. + 

That can't be the television, can it? No. + 

My heart hammered against my chest. I ran to the bedroom, and found Matthew on top of a woman, kissing and licking her breasts. A breath I was holding slipped through my lips and I couldn't control the hold I had on my purse or the keys. They fell to the floor with a thud loud enough for them to stop what they were doing and look my way. I couldn't move my eyes away from them and when the girl suddenly sat properly I saw who she was. Melinda, my one and only true friend. + 

They both covered themselves fast and gasped when they were finally able to see me. I looked at them and felt sicker to the stomach than I had ever felt in my entire life. A cold shocking chill ran through my whole body and without warning I found myself running to the front door. I grabbed my suitcases which were still outside of the house and ran away. + 

I kept running absently, trying to drag my heavy suitcases with me without breaking them on the cement pavement. And not once had I heard my name being called. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my own heels hitting the ground louder and louder and the small wheels of my suitcases being dragged. After a few minutes of running in shock I decided it was time for my brain to start thinking. I started to slow down as I took a look around me in the dark neighborhood and saw a bench. I dragged myself to it and sat down. + 

Breathe. Just breathe. Matthew wouldn't do this to me. Melinda wouldn't do this to me. + 

I looked around and found no one in the street or maybe even the whole block. It was quiet and dark and only a pole next to me was lighting the bench I was sitting on. I took off my heels and decided to just let go, because I knew I seriously needed to cry. + 

He cheated on me. They both did. Matthew and Melinda. The closest people to me. The only two I have in this world, actually. How can they do this to me? Do I mean absolutely nothing to both of them? + 

Maybe they…maybe they were…I don't know, drunk? Desperate? I don't know! I just know that they weren't supposed to do this. + 

Then came that annoying small voice in the back of my head and said, "You know it's for the best." + 

I shook my head. + 

You know it wasn't right. It never felt right, and you know it. This is for the best. + 

"No!" I cried out loud and for what seemed like an hour or so I just kept crying. I cried and cried then remembered that I needed to calm my breath, so I wiped my tears and breathed as deeply and slowly as I possibly could. Then the image of them on my bed suddenly resurfaced and I started crying again, then once more. + 

I felt the tears wetting my cheeks like never before. I felt the pain as I tried to calm myself down. I felt confused, asking myself how was I so stupid? I felt scared, having absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do now. I felt lost in my own thoughts. + 

But mainly, I felt purely and utterly alone. I had no one. I had no one to lend me their shoulder to cry on, no one to wipe my tears off, and no one to hold my hand through this. I had no one to advise me and tell me what to do now, no one to support me and no one to try and cheer me up or take my mind off of the disaster that I had just witnessed. I had no one to check up on me and see if I was alright. + 

I have no one at all. + 

And with that realization I cried even harder and harder, till I heard someone suddenly talk beside me. + 

"Are you okay?" A deep masculine voice made me jump off the bench and take a few steps away. + 

Careful what you wish for, right? + 