137. Dragonflies
CHAPTER 137
DRAGONFLIES
MARGAUX
TWO WEEKS LATER
W hat is grief when you can’t see the body?
What is grief when you can see the body is still living, repeating their behavior on someone else?
It hurts, seeing them move along, and inflict the same pain on another person, reaching out to triangulate with everyone they’ve ever known.
Because, for some their wounds have been dulled, their scars healed almost—if not totally.
But he’ll rip them open again.
I’m sure of it.
It’s not my place to point it out.
I have to live here in silence, with my altered DNA.
Because I fell for a cute boy full of lies.
Who wanted nothing other than to hurt me and to blame me for everything he thinks everyone ever did him wrong by.
I’m so much stronger now. That’s the mantra I tell myself as I pack my belongings.
I’ve learned to value myself, to set boundaries about how I expect to be treated. There’s still plenty of self-work to do, and it’s a hard-earned realization, but it’s here—and I’m clinging to it like a life raft.
Soon, I’ll be out of this apartment—out of the suffocating space where the beep of the door and the swoosh of it opening became the soundtrack of my nightmares.
It’s sad it took this long to get to this point, but I’m here.
I walk out to the dumpster, my arms full of things that hold memories I no longer want. With every cathartic clang as they hit the metal, I feel a little lighter.
Dr. Ramani’s podcast plays in my ears, drowning out my negative thoughts, her voice a steady reminder of what I’ve endured and why I’ll never go back.
On my way back to the apartment, something magical happens. A swarm of dragonflies surrounds me, darting and swirling like they’re performing just for me. Normally, the sudden flurry of movement would startle me, but today?
Today, I laugh.
It’s like the universe is giving me a sign.
I’m free.
Packing my life into four suitcases and a cat carrier feels strangely liberating. I can go anywhere I want now.
The weight of Timmy’s chaos is no longer dragging me down.
I’m relieved, in ways I hadn’t even realized were possible. No more beeps, no more swooshing doors, no more smashed glass or angry accusations.
The thought makes me smile.
I won’t be on his home turf anymore.
I won’t be living right next to people doing meth who he’s talked badly about me to.
He won’t be able to pop up in the window.
Life is back on my terms.
I’m living for me, not somebody that doesn’t deserve my time.
It feels like a parasite has been removed. Extracted.
I’m surrounded by strangers and yet I already feel much safer than I did in my own home.
I have a life that many others would envy now.
I can go where I want, whenever I want. As long as my sweet cat is taken care of, of course.
The cat I didn’t let him throw in the ocean.
The cat who he tried to take on a 2AM walk over to his meth head friends.
Sabre watches me from the bed, his green eyes wide and curious. I crouch down to scratch behind his ears. “We’re almost out of here, buddy. Just a little longer, and we’ll be free.”
I feel a twinge of guilt looking at him. Sabre didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t deserve the danger I put him in by staying with Timmy as long as I did. If something had happened… The thought makes my stomach churn, but I push it aside.
I can’t change the past. I can only move forward.
And if I do ever end up in another relationship, one thing is for sure—I need to be with someone who needs absolutely nothing from me.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes. The screen lights up with a name I haven’t seen in a while. My heart skips. Dex .
The man I’ve thought about far too often, even when I shouldn’t have. Especially when I shouldn’t have.
I’ve been far too embarrassed to reach out to him, for one thing. But I’ve also been defensive—protective of Timmy—and I know Dex would have pushed me to end things long ago.
More than anything, it’s embarrassing being in a cycle of abuse. Every time the cycle begins again, hope rises—then it deflates like a sad balloon… and that’s, well… mortifying.
Because every time you forgive them, you really believe in their will to change. That they mean the promises they make.
It’s exhausting, and I feel like an idiot for giving Timmy so many chances despite the growing evidence that he is an evil person, and the only outcome of staying with him—as my sister said—would have been my funeral.
But I can’t think of that.
I answer the phone just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?” My voice comes out shaky, a reminder that I haven’t spoken out loud much lately.
I’ve been sheltered in my apartment, scared and frantic.
“Hey, Margaux,” Dex says, his voice warm and familiar. It’s deeper than I remember, like it’s been steeped in late nights and hard whiskey. “I just wanted to check in. How are you holding up?”
The question is simple, but it unravels me. I start to cry, tears streaming down my face before I can stop them. “I’m… I’m okay,” I manage between sobs.
There’s a pause on the other end, and then he speaks again. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know, Margaux. You’ve been through a lot.”
He must have been keeping track of my public social media meltdown. Great .
Blood rushes to my cheeks.
But I quickly get over my embarrassment. Dex listens as I unload everything—the restraining order, the move, the fear, the guilt.
I cry as I speak. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to fix it. He just listens. He’s just there for me.
“I should’ve called you sooner,” I say, wiping my face. “But I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Burden me?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Margaux, you could never be a burden. Besides, I’m here, aren’t I?”
His words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of my emotions.
And there’s a softness to him now, a side I didn’t know existed.
Dex has always been confident, sharp, and—let’s be honest—devastatingly hot. But this? This patience, this gentleness? It’s enough to undo me all over again.
“Let me help,” he says. “I’ll fly out, help you move the last of your things.”
“No, Dex, that’s too much. You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not asking,” he interrupts, his tone firm but kind. “I’m coming. And when you’re ready, you can stay at my spare apartment back in California. No strings, no expectations. Just… a place where you can breathe.”
I’m crying again, but this time it’s from relief. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Let me be there for you,” his tone is gravely, soothing. Hot as hell. “No shutting me out this time.”
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it makes my chest ache. “I promise.”
After we hang up, he sends me his flight confirmation, and I find myself counting down the hours until I see him.
Until I’m in the presence of someone who doesn’t need anything from me, who doesn’t expect me to shrink myself to fit their world.
Dex is more than just a safety net. He’s a reminder that there are good people out there.
That I deserve to surround myself with better people.
And for the first time in a long time, I believe it.