Chapter 4
Chapter four
I’m not heartbroken in a poetic or romantic way. I feel heartbroken in the spilled soup on your shirt, haven’t showered in days—what is the point of it all?—I don’t even know what day it is, kind of way.
Nestling into the couch, I assume the sun is up; I just don’t care enough to check.
Wrapped in my cozy blanket, drifting between laughter and tears, I revisit my favourite romantic comedies, and passages from my book.
I hoped these stories would shed light on my feelings, as the home around me exuded the faint scents of wilted flowers and reheated meals.
My stomach doesn’t grumble with hunger; it aches with everything I’ve kept bottled up.
I had tried a piece of toast earlier but couldn’t finish it.
After hours, maybe days, in the same spot, my body feels stiff and sore.
I scratch absently at my arm, not because it itches but because the motion keeps me from going completely still. Red marks rise under my nails.
As if my brain is desperate for proof that I didn’t imagine all of it, the good memories slip through.
Justin laughing so hard he nearly choked when I dropped my ice cream in the car; both of us sticky and breathless, wiping our faces with napkins that fell apart in our hands.
The night we dragged the mattress into the living room during a storm because the power went out, and we decided to camp by candlelight, eating cereal straight from the box and talking until dawn.
They come back like little ghosts, sweet, uninvited, out of order. Moments that should make me smile, but now just make everything hurt worse. Because I can’t tell which version of us was real anymore: the ones that laughed in the dark, or that learned to live without it.
A yellow Post-it note adorned with Justin’s scratchy handwriting, saying: “Buy oat milk, love you,” still clings to the fridge.
It feels like a reminder of a world I used cherish.
I toy with the sleeve of my oversized hoodie, comforted by its familiar cedar and shampoo scent, homely, yet bittersweet.
My phone buzzes again.
MARLEY: Did you eat something today?
TESS: Call us. No pressure.
I pause for a moment, before gathering a cloth to wipe down the benchtop, as if rejuvenating my space would revitalise my spirit as well.
I even rearrange the coffee mugs, aligning their handles perfectly, seeking order in the chaos.
It might seem trivial, these small acts, but they were my way of restoring a sense of normalcy.
I glance around and notice Justin’s hoodie, draped over a chair like a forgotten memory.
Crumpled socks peek out from under the coffee table, and on top of it, is the bottle of wine we had planned to savour together.
A symbol of dreams we once shared. The stack of vinyl records sits silently, holding the stories of moments we never got to create.
This place feels less like a home and more like a gallery of lost possibilities.
Sitting down with my book, I turn its pages slowly. Some annotations feel distant, as if they belong to a different chapter of my life. A time when I still embraced the magic of fairytales.
But I’m determined to find my own new story.
Picking up my journal, I scribble: “try again tomorrow,” and then tear the page out to try again. “I don’t know how to feel anything real right now.”
That one stays.
I stare at my phone screen. Justin’s name sits at the top of my contacts. My thumb hovers but I don’t tap. I don’t want to be the girl who called only to be reminded he isn’t going to answer the way I needed him to.
Another memory resurfaces, sharply, from a few months ago.
I hum while sautéing, reading a recipe off my phone. He comes up behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder.
‘You’re always off somewhere in that head of yours,’ he half-smiles.
‘Is that a bad thing?’
‘Depends on whether you ever want to come back down.’
It had sounded affectionate then, but now it sounded like a warning that I never caught.
I look around, taking it all in. The soft throw blanket I once bought, thinking it matched our vibe and never used, the candle I never lit; my books that are still stacked in boxes.
This isn’t my home. It never has been. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe.
My phone rings, breaking my thoughts. Picking it up, I see it's Marley FaceTiming me. Not bothering to wipe the tears from my eyes, I answer the call.
‘Hello,’ I whisper. It's not just Marley; Tess is there too.
I love these two.
‘Oh babe, what’s wrong?’ Tess asks.
The moment she asks the question: I lose control.
‘I hate him for making me feel like this. For making me fall in love with a life I couldn’t survive in, but I hate myself more. For staying, for shrinking, and for loving him anyway. Then I hate how unfair that is, because he didn’t ask me to stay small, not outright.’
Marley glances at Tess. ‘Lilah, I’m sorry he—’
‘He just never made room for me to flourish,’ I interrupt before I lose my train of thought.
‘No babe, he didn’t.’ Tess replies.
‘I am making a big deal out of this, which is either dramatic or oversensitive.’
‘You aren’t being dramatic or oversensitive. He said hurtful things to you. Anyone would feel like this.’
‘I can’t help but think maybe if I’d been a little easier, a little more chill… he wouldn’t have pulled away.’ They stare at me blankly. 'But I’m allowed to want to be chosen? Aren’t I?’
‘Yes, you deserve to be chosen. To be cherished. To be big and not put in a box.’ Tess tells me, tears rolling down her face.
Watching those tears fall, I can't help but sob, unable to catch my breath. Is this a panic attack? Grief maybe? Fuck.
‘Lilah, look at me,’ Marley demands.
I say nothing and turn my head.
‘Okay good. Close your eyes.’
Listening to Marley’s unusually calm voice, I do; I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
‘That’s it, deep breaths.’
Smiling, I am reminded instantly, why I love them so much. Ever since I moved to town, these two women have been there for me. For every step of the way, every chapter I wrote, every draft I finished. Every argument with Justin. Everything.
‘We are on our way over, don’t hang up the phone Lils. We are coming.’ Tess reassures me. ‘We are here for you.’
Nodding, I close my eyes and lay down on the floor, wishing for the concrete to cool my rising body temperature.
I’m not sure how long I lay there—minutes or hours—but they don’t disconnect until I hear Marley say, ‘Open up babe, we are here.’
Rushing to the door, I swing it open. They instantly wrap me in the best cuddle I have ever had.
‘Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold AF out here,’ Marley giggles.
Taking a seat on the couch, Tess and Marley on either side of me, my heart is racing and eyes glassy. The two most important people in my life are here to pick up the pieces… again.
‘Lilah, you are a beautiful person, this will get easier. You will heal from this. It might take time, but you will.’ Tess rubs my shoulder.
‘I think it's time to get you out of here,’ Marley adds.
I give her a small nod. ‘Okay.’
‘You can come to our place, or do you think Nettie still has your apartment free?’ she adds.
‘I think it is empty,’ I say. Picking up my phone, I scroll to Nettie, owner of Brew and Jerry—the silly fern I always talk to.
It’s not about what I’m taking with me, it’s about what I’m finally ready to leave behind.
Walking back to the girls I realise everything is packed. My life is ready to restart again.
‘You’ll spend the night with us,’ Tess tells me. ‘I’ll take the couch. You can have my bed.’
‘The couch is fine. I slept on this one last night. I can take one more night.’
She nods and we head out the front door. Together.
Journal Entry - Wednesday, 6th of August
Well, here I am. I packed up my life and now it’s time to restart again.
The last time I did this, I was running away from the life my parents expected me to have. This time it’s for similar reasons. I wouldn’t fit in the box Justin created for me.
Tonight, had been horrible, gut wrenching.
Opening up to Marley and Tess about how I felt.
Our relationship hadn’t shattered suddenly—it had been slowly deflating, losing air with every unspoken thing between us.
By the time it popped, there was barely anything left to hold onto.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Balloons only stay full if someone keeps breathing into them.
I am thankful for them, thankful for this surprisingly comfy sofa bed.
Tomorrow is a new day; a new chapter I have re-written far too many times to list. But I can do it, I will do it.
xx