“Would you want to go get coffee sometime?”

            That’s how it all started. You got me a black coffee; I couldn’t drink it all. You gladly finished it for me. We talked. And talked. And talked. We talked about our day, talked about our classes, our dreams, and aspirations. You drove me home, and got out of the car to open my door.

            “Thank you,” I said, and started to walk away, but hurried footsteps caught up to me. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach, and I turned around. There you were. Our first kiss. I watched you drive away with the biggest smile on your face. But when did that smile fade?

            Every week, the same routine. Coffee. Conversation. Goodbye. Until it became something more. Coffee dates slowly turned into dinner and a movie. Then, picnics in the park, baking Christmas cookies in my apartment. And before we knew it, we were saying “I love you” and sending each other off at the airport.

            I didn’t want to leave, but I had no other choice.

            “I’ll be home in a couple of weeks”. I kissed you goodbye and got on the plane as you waved. And I was gone. Away from you, away from the life that we were used to. But I came back. You knew I was coming back, didn’t you? I was gone but I never left you.

            And when I got back, we went back to our familiar routine. It was comfortable, it was warm, it was right. I was home with you again, but you weren’t there with me.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

            You check your phone and turn it over so I can’t see the screen. You’re not fast enough though. I see the texts. It’s just a friend. It’s just a friend. It’s just a… But it’s not, is it?

            “Baby I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow”. You kiss me goodbye.

            For months, you tell lie after lie. Do you think I believe you? Every “guys night” and “work trip” that has suddenly popped up in your schedule? You must think I’m a fool. Or maybe you just don’t care enough to see that I can tell when you’re lying to me. But I still haven’t told you that I can see through the clouds of smoke you’re blowing. Why?

            I hope and pray and wish and dream that one day, you’ll be brave and tell me what you do in secret, when you think I’m not watching. But you won’t, so I pretend I don’t know, hoping that my ignorance will make it all go away. But I know. I know where you go in the middle of the night. I know who you’re seeing. I know who you’re thinking about and I know, it’s not me. But I pretend that you’re not screwing her while you constantly screw me over.

            “I’m going to go grab coffee with a friend,” you say to me. That’s how it all started. That’s how it all ends, too.