- 8.
Six months later, I ran into Nina at the park while walking Buddy. The park overlooked the river. Nina looked different. I was used to seeing her in white dresses, ethereal like a jasmine flower. Today, she was wearing a scarlet red dress and smoking a cigarette. The wind whipped her long hair around her face, making her look like a vibrant rose. She was staring across the river. She turned and our eyes met. We sat together on a bench. She offered me a cigarette, which I declined. She lit one for herself and started to talk, telling me about her past with Matt, their dreams of a future together. The first part sounded like a heartwarming love story. The second part was a harsh dose of reality.
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Her family had disapproved of Matt, going to great lengths to keep them apart. They’d overcome every obstacle, until just before graduation, when Nina’s mother had called to tell her that her grandfather was sick. Nina had rushed home to be with him, only to discover that he hadn’t been sick at all. It had been a ruse to force her to break up with Matt. He’d threatened to refuse treatment if she didn’t comply. Nina, unable to ignore her grandfather’s ultimatum, had agreed. She hadn’t told Matt the truth because she didn’t want him to blame himself or his background. The city held too many memories, and she was afraid she’d break down and tell him everything. So, she had left. “I deleted all his contact info except his number,” she continued, exhaling a plume of smoke. “For years, he’d text me updates on his life. I never replied. I even blocked him a few times. But I always unblocked him eventually. Like a stalker, I kept tabs on his life, pretending I was still a part of it.” “Then his messages became less frequent, and your name started appearing. I knew he was moving on.” “Six months ago, after my grandfather passed away, I came back to settle his affairs. That’s when Matt told me he was getting married. You have no idea how much that hurt. He’d promised me he’d wait, that we’d get married someday.” She gave a bitter laugh. “So, I told him I was back. I pretended I’d just landed at the airport. I wanted to know if he still had feelings for me.” “I’m sorry, Lily,” she said quietly, fiddling with her fingers. I watched Buddy trying to make friends with a stray cat. “And now? Did you get your answer?” I asked casually. “Yeah, he doesn’t love me.” She paused, then added, “He loves you.” I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply. “At first, I thought he loved me, too,” Nina continued. “Then, one day at work, he absentmindedly said, ‘Lily, tie my tie.‘ We both froze. I brushed it off as a slip of the tongue. But after that, it happened more and more. He kept calling me your name. That’s when I realized he truly didn’t love me. He loved you.” “No,” I said softly, “you’re wrong. He doesn’t love anyone but himself.” True love is honest and respectful. It doesn’t cross boundaries or demand “understanding” to excuse selfish behavior. It accepts you for
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who you are. Matt’s “love” was about control and narcissism. He wanted everyone to conform to his desires. We watched the sunset paint the river red. For a moment, it felt like we were old friends, sharing a quiet moment of reflection. As we parted ways, Nina turned to me, her dimples flashing. “I’m leaving again. Who knows when we’ll see each other again.” She paused. “Oh, and he’s sick,” she added with a small frown, spreading her hands. “Karma, I guess. He got hit by a car shortly after I came back. Broke his leg. He’s pretty miserable in the hospital. You should go see him if you have time.” I shrugged noncommittally.
