Page 92 of Saint Céline
I walked farther into the apartment because standing near the door made me feel like I might run before I spoke.
The Thai food sat unopened on the coffee table, steam fogging the inside of the containers. He had ordered the dishes I liked, not the ones he tolerated, which made the whole thing worse. A bottle of his wine rested beside two glasses.
I looked at all of it and felt something inside me fold in on itself.
“You didn’t have to order so much.”
“You barely ate last time.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“All right.” His voice turned careful. “What’s going on?”
I turned toward him. There were so many things I could say. I’m sorry. I’m not who you think I am. You were kind to a girl who never truly existed. Another man knows the truth about me, and now I have to destroy the life I built beside you before he destroys the rest.
Instead, I said, “I think we should end this.”
Thad stared at me. Then he let out a short, confused laugh.
“End what?”
“Us.”
He looked toward the coffee table, then back at me, as if the food and wine might explain something my face did not.
“Where is this coming from?”
“It’s been coming for a while.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
That answer irritated me because it was both wrong and understandable. For him, nothing had been wrong because I had made sure nothing looked wrong. I had answered texts. Smiled at dinners. Worn the bracelet. Touched his arm at the right moments. Let his mother approve of me, and his father measure my usefulness. I had played the part so well that now he genuinely thought the performance had been evidence that our relationship was real.
“It has,” I said quietly.
Thad ran a hand through his hair.
“Is this because of Katherine?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Céline.”
His voice held frustration now, and beneath it something that might have been fear.
He stepped closer. “Talk to me. If you’re spiralling, if you need space, that’s fine. We can slow down.”
Slow down.As if we had ever truly been moving.
“I don’t need space.”
“Then what do you need?”
The question was so simple. I almost answered honestly. I need a life no one can take from me. I need to stop belonging to men who confused access with love. I need Professor Moreau to burn every copy of that file and never say Katherine’s name again. I need to know whether any version of me exists without someone else holding her up.
“I need to not be your girlfriend anymore,” I said.
Thad stared at me. His face shifted slowly from confusion into hurt. That hurt was real. It made me feel monstrous.
