Page 5

“Stop asking stupid questions, Makayla,” he snaps in a low voice, then looks around. “Where are your parents?”
Asshole.“They’re meeting us at the restaurant,” I reply woodenly.
He nods once. “Let’s go.”
Victor curls an arm around my lower back, clamping a hand on my hip. I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold. His fingers dig into the tender bruise on my hip from the incident four days ago, making me flinch.
“Ow,” I hiss.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
I ignore his half-assed apology as he steers us through the parking lot and then opens the passenger door of his Mercedes. I quickly remove the polyester robe, revealing the red dress he bought for me before he left town. I was tempted to run out and buy myself something else out of spite. Victor’s smug expression makes me wish that I had.
I press my lips together, biting back a snide remark, and drop into the passenger seat, tossing my hat and robe into the back before pulling on my seat belt. Victor closes the door, then rounds the front of the car, pinning me with an indecipherable look through the windshield that puts me on edge. He seems agitated, and I wonder if it’s from that phone call or if he knows what I did. Anxiety tightens my chest as he climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine without looking at me.
As he merges into the line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot, I shift in my seat. “How was yourbusiness trip?” I ask sardonically.
He briefly glances over at me before returning his attention to the line of traffic ahead of us. “Productive.” He seems eerily calm for the amount of angst vibrating off him.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I look out the passenger window. “Yeah, I bet it was.”
I did a lot of thinking over the last few days. I might be a little naïve at times, but I’m not dumb. I know Victor is cheating on me. I don’t have solid proof, but if his behavior is anything to go on, I’d say it started two and a half months ago, right before he asked me to move in with him.
Victor regularly went out of town on business, but that particular time, he was only supposed to be gone for two days. Normally, I wouldn’t bother him while he was working, but after a week of no contact, I was worried. I called and texted, but he didn’t respond. So, I called his office, and his assistant informed me that he was in a meeting. I’d been ghosted once before, so I recognized the signs, but I never expected that kind of disrespect from Victor. I was furious, and when he finally did call, I sent him to voicemail. If I wasn’t worth his time, then he wasn’t worth mine.
A few days and many unanswered phone calls later, Victor showed up at my apartment with flowers and an apology, then asked me to dinner. It felt like a small victory.
During our date, he told me all about the hotel expansion he’d been working on. He was sweet and attentive. He was the man I fell for. Later, as he drove me back to my apartment, he asked me to move in with him.
With graduation approaching, the timing could not have been more perfect.
Looking back, I realize the victory had been all Victor’s.
You could say I’m a hopeless romantic. I love with my whole heart and I feel things deeply. I’ve told myself with every new relationship that it’ll be different. That I’ll take it slow, skim the shallow waters before taking the plunge. Only I end up diving right into the deep end and the weight of my feelings keeps me from breaking the surface.
My young heart has been broken dozens of times over the years, not just from breakups, but from jilted friendships too. In high school, I was targeted and bullied by girls I thought were my friends. Most of it online, because people are a lot braver behind the screen. I’d never felt so helpless or hopeless. I cried a lot. Then one day, as my mom and I were leaving the principal’s office, she turned to me and said, “Makayla, you can’t control what others say about you, but you can control how you allow it to affect you.”
Control.
Such a complex word. Something a hormonal teenager didn’t possess. However, I held on to that little piece of advice, and though it was hard, I pushed through those shitty high school years and even made a few new friends along the way.
Strangely enough, it had also become the crux of my relationship with Victor. When you’re in love with a narcissist, you don’t realize how much control you’ve given them until it’s too late.
I mistook his manipulation for romantic gestures. Coupled with the fact that he’s handsome, older and more experienced, I relished in the attention and affection. Especially in bed. I wasn’t a virgin, but I’d never been with a man who knew his way around a woman’s body the way Victor had. I felt worthy.
I was so enamored, I couldn’t see past the hearts in my eyes. His moves were careful and cunning. I allowed him to dictate everything from what I ate, to the clothes I wore, to the way I behaved in his presence. He always ordered for me when we went out, and only allowed me one glass of wine at dinner. I hated wine. He picked out my clothes and accessories, and while he would always tell me I looked beautiful, he still found a way to make me feel inadequate. His backhanded compliments were another form of manipulation over simple things such as the color of my lipstick, the flavor of my gum, or even my taste in music.
After I moved in, I felt like I was living with a totally different man. He was hardly ever home, either working late or out of town. I missed him, but I understood his job was important. When he was home, he was cold and distant. His touch was rougher, his words hurtful and degrading. He wasn’t the same man I fell in love with.
I should’ve known better than to play games with a man like Victor.
I’d made the first move, attempting to salvage our relationship. To balance the scale between us. Victor countered with cruelty, breaking my heart before he walked out, leaving me feeling confused and worthless.
But I finally saw him for what he truly is.
The veil of denial had been lifted.
I realized the man I fell in love with never really existed.