When I get up, Rashid seems to be still asleep. I sit down on one of my counter stools and sip a glass of water. I glance at Rashid, who is lying on his stomach, duvet abandoned by his side. My side. Rashid undressed before going to bed, but he’s still wearing his boxer briefs and a t-shirt. I frown slightly. That’s a bit unusual. Normally it’s only briefs – or nothing. I wonder what made him put on a t-shirt.

I turn around. I can’t even stand to look at him. The thing is: I still love him. It’s a feeling I can’t just switch on and off. Did I mean to fall in love with him? Can I just fall out of love with him? I think the answer to both is “no”. But it is what makes his betrayal and lies so much worse. I don’t know what hurts more: that his ex isn’t his ex or that he lied about it to me. If he’d been honest from the start, at least I would have known where I stand. I remember a time early in our dating when I thought it might only be physical attraction. For him, at least. And I remember my decision to go with it, if that’s what he wanted.

If he had told me back then, it wouldn’t fucking hurt so much now. Not like a hand is slowly pushed inside my chest, tearing out my heart and squashing it into a bloody pulp. I place my elbows on the counter and bury my face in them. He’ll wake up soon, and then we’ll talk. There’s no way of avoiding it now. I wish he’d stayed away.

I decide to make coffee. It’ll probably wake him up – the disadvantages of a one-room apartment – but there’s no point in delaying the inevitable. My coffee maker just splatters the last bits of black caffeine glory into the pot when I hear Rashid’s voice behind me.

“You’re up early.”

I mumble something about not sleeping well and pour two mugs, then I turn around, bracing myself for the fight. Rashid stands by my counter, watching me. I try to avoid looking at him and just push his mug towards him. Rashid pulls it closer to himself and shifts it in his hands.

“I think we need to have this talk now.” He starts, sounding just as wary and anxious as I feel. There’s also a bit of relief in me. It’s starting. This will be it. No more waiting for the unknown to hit. One big fight and then it’ll be over.

“Did no one call you?” Rashid asks haltingly.

“Yes, someone did,” I explain, my voice sounding harsh.

Rashid let’s out a sigh of relief. “Good. You were so mad last night, I thought maybe…”

“Sam Barclay called.” I interrupt him. “Your boyfriend.” My voice is like a slap in his face.

“My ex-boyfriend…” Rashid says slowly, putting an emphasis on the word “ex”.

“That’s not what he said.” I can’t face him, so I turn around and empty my coffee maker’s grounds container into the bin. The place where the used-up, spent parts get thrown. Same as always – use it up, toss it out. Just like me.

Rashid is clearly baffled. “You’re my boyfriend, Wendell. You know that…”

“He said I was just a hobby. He called me your recent ‘shagger muffin’. What does that even mean? It’s not a word!” I need to pause for a moment. I can feel my voice breaking, out of rage as much as pain. “I thought you were injured or dead. I thought I’d lost you. And then I thought – no. No, I never really had you to begin with.” I turn to face him again. “Maybe you should’ve just stayed gone, Rashid – it would’ve been easier than having you lie to my face.”

There’s shock and something else I can’t quite place on Rashid’s face. It almost makes me falter. Almost. But not this time. He won’t lull me into hoping again.

“Wendell, he’s the one who’s lying!” He sounds desperate – and surprised. At being caught? Oh Rashid, maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.

“Oh, really? And how would I know?” I snap at him. Why can’t he just admit it? Admit it and leave. Why can’t this be over?

“Because I’m telling you now!” He acts like he’s stunned. “The best way to tell Sam Barclay is lying is when his lips are moving.” Rashid is running his fingers through his hair. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

I snort and turn around.

“Wendell, please…”

“Please what…?” I snarl at him. I can see him flinch, like my voice is a whip cracking.

“Please, believe me… That bastard can lie all he wants – but the only way he wins is if you believe him over me. I love you, Wendell…” Change of tactics. Pleading now.

“Then why did you pick him? Out of all people? If he’s such a lying bastard?” How stupid does he think I am that I’ll fall for his bullshit?

“There just wasn’t time to find someone else. I had to get word to you that I would be gone for a while. That you needn’t worry and I’d contact you as soon as I can.” He starts pacing up and down my room, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples like he’s trying to make it all stop. “Oh, that fucking bastard! I’m gonna kill him.” Then he looks at me and sees me standing there with my arms folded across my chest, looking defiant.

I laugh – sharp, humourless – and shake my head. The words are catching fire in my throat. “Also not what he said. ‘Something happened, but he’s probably alive’.” Weeks of agony finally find an outlet. “Probably! Do you have any idea what that felt like? Getting that phone call in the middle of the night, having him laugh at me like I’m a fucking joke. Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course, you’re not.” He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to stay in control. Whatever he thought would happen this morning… This wasn’t on the menu. Sam said Rashid would come over for a little “booty call”. Not gonna happen, pal. Not ever again.

“Then what am I to you? Just a fucking charity project? A broken thing you picked up from the trash and that you’re trying to fix now? The secret you kept on the side while you had a fucking vampire DJ dangling off your arm?”

“You’re neither! Jesus Christ, Wendell, are you listening to yourself? This is insane!” I can see that he’s getting angry too. The muscles in his jaw are tight, and his eyes are like wildfire.

“Oh, I’m insane now? I’m tearing myself up on the inside trying to figure out what I am to you. I stopped eating. I stopped talking to my family and to my friends. I wake up from nightmares every night, if I can sleep at all. Every second that passes without you feels like confirmation that I am just a placeholder.” I’m yelling, and I can feel my eyes fill with tears. I try to blink them away. I can’t cry. Not now.

He seems genuinely shocked and concerned. “Wendell… I’m sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t know you were hurting that much.” I can see the pain in his eyes, and some twisted part of me wants to hurt him just the way I am.

“You think I didn’t want to call?” Rashid says, his voice breaking. “I begged them to let me send something. Anything. But I didn’t have time, Wendell. He was the only one I knew who could reach you. I knew it was a risk – but you were supposed to trust me.”

Rashid huffs, shaking his head: “I was wrong. You trusted him more than me.”

“And you just show up, like that’s enough? The almighty secret agent. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. Falling for the great Rashid Chaudhury, the world’s greatest liar.” I hate myself for every crack I see spider across his face, but I still go on, knowing it would wound him more than anything else I could say.

“When I let you kiss me last night, I felt nothing. Just like every time I let someone else do it when I didn’t want them to.” The poisoned arrow lands just where I aimed. Hit and sunk.

His voice turns to ice. “Don’t you ever compare me to the people who used you. I am not one of them. I’m not one of your fucking clients, Wendell.” The lines around his mouth are carved with fury, and his hands are shaking. It should make me feel powerful, seeing him wince – but all it does is make me feel sick.

“You say you love me – but you still made me feel like trash, Rashid.” My voice is venomous and biting.

His shoulders slump and he looks defeated. “If you’re so sure I’m just another man using you – then maybe I was the fool to think I was different.”

I’m not done with him.

“Maybe I was just the side act. Maybe I was the one you played house with before you went back to the real deal. Was I ever anything more to you than a good distraction?”

‘You think I see you as a ‘distraction’, a ‘side act’? I crossed every damn line to be with you. I broke rules. I made enemies. I asked Sam to call you because I had no one else left to ask. I was praying it would make you hang on.” He laughs, bitterly. “But no. You let him rewrite everything we had with a single phone call. And maybe that means I don’t belong in your world.”

His words sting. Ever since Rashid showed up on my doorstep last night, I knew that this was the most probable outcome. We’re breaking up. I’m about to lose the love of my life. The second time I let anyone get so close to my heart, only to have it ripped out of my chest.

“You want to push me away? Say it now. But don’t lie to both of us just because you’re scared.” Rashid’s face hardens, the fight draining from him.

“You want honesty? Fine. I didn’t know loving you would feel like bleeding every damn day.” It’s out. I said it. There’s no way of taking it back now. We’re over, and I know it. I think I can actually feel my heart shatter into tiny pieces. I’m breathing in shallow gulps. I can’t let him see how much this affects me.

He steps toward me, like he’s about to say something, but I retreat a step, instinctively pulling away. His mouth opens, but he closes it and swallows down whatever it is he wanted to say. Instead, he walks away. He puts on his jeans and stuffs the rest of his things into his bag. With one hand at the door handle, he hesitates and turns around again. His eyes are brimmed with tears as his gaze lingers for just one moment longer.

“You think I don’t know what it cost you to let someone in? And still, the first voice that told you you were worthless – that’s the one you listened to. I didn’t come back to fight, Wendell. But it feels like you’ve already made up your mind. I lost before I even walked through the door. You never gave me a chance. You’ll never believe me.” He pauses, waiting – maybe hoping – for me to say something, to prove him wrong. I can’t.

“I didn’t want it to end this way.” He goes on. “Maybe you’re right… Maybe we’re better off apart. But remember: I’m not the one who gave up, Wendell. That was you.”

With these words, he opens my apartment door and leaves. The door slams shut, and he’s gone. I don’t even hear the footsteps anymore. The apartment feels too quiet now. Like all the sound has drained out of it, leaving me with nothing but the hollow ache in my chest and the heavy thump of my own heartbeat.