Trigger Warning

PRETTY

~Eli~

The call came in early in the morning while I was on a trip.

“Hey, baby… I miss you.” Her voice came through the phone soft, almost shy.

I leaned back in the stiff hotel chair, staring at the empty street below.

“Somebody told me it was pointless for me to come back… into your arms,” I said, my voice low.

She didn’t answer right away—just a long pause, like she was deciding whether to lie or confess.

“They’re wrong,” she whispered.

But I’d heard the stories. They said you f****d another man, finally. And in some twisted way, it was a relief—because I could stop feeling like I was crazy for knowing this day would come from the start.

“I knew it,” I told her. “I could see it in your eyes before I left. You’ve been living your life, and I’ve been out here on the road… but you were happy, because as long as you knew—when I land, you’re mine—you could live with it.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t argue.

Then, barely above a whisper: “He never made me feel the way you do.”

“It’s been 365 days since I’ve seen your face,” I said. “I’ve been living on the road, you’ve been living all alone at home… I just hope he made you satisfied.”

Silence. Heavy, but not empty. I could hear her breathing—slow, uneven—like she was holding something back.

I didn’t press. I just let the moment breathe. Because when I made it back, I’d make sure she never felt so pretty… so beautiful… ever again.

When the train pulled in, I spotted her before she saw me. Standing just beyond the crowd, hood up, hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets. Staring at the ground. Rocking on her heels like she wasn’t sure she wanted to be here.

I stepped off, my bag slung loose over my shoulder. She looked up.

Her eyes—God, her eyes—were the same ones I’d left a year ago. Softer now. Tired. Guilty. Still mine.

“You came,” she said.

“I told you I would.”

We didn’t hug right away. Just stood there, close enough to feel the pull. Then I stepped forward, slid my hand behind her neck, and kissed her. It wasn’t sweet. It was claiming.

The walk to her place was quiet except for wet pavement under our shoes. Her building hadn’t changed, but when I stepped inside, the air was different.

I smelled it before she spoke—a faint trace of another man’s cologne.

She froze when I paused in the doorway… .

Upstairs, I set my bag down. Same couch. Same crooked picture on the wall. But the scent still lingered in the air.

“I definitely smell his cologne,” I said, low and steady. “But baby… I won’t cry.”

Her head dropped, teeth catching her lip like she couldn’t decide whether to apologize or defend herself.

I stepped closer, my shadow covering hers. My hand brushed her jaw.

“Now that I’ve landed,” I said, “you’re mine. And you’ll never feel so pretty… you’ll never feel this beautiful… with anyone else.”

Her breath hitched. She didn’t move away.

There are certain things I’ve come to understand.

Expectations can kill a simple man… or a simple woman. And we had both been simple once, before life and time and temptation made us complicated.

I’d tried to master the art of that faraway love—keeping her close from a distance. But there’s only so much that can keep a woman warm when you’re just a voice on the phone and a promise in the dark.

Now it was times like this I had to remind myself: we’ve been living in a cold, cold world. But at least I had her to rely on, even if just for a short while.

Every time she cheated… or acted out… I’d come home and lean in close, my breath brushing her ear.

“As long as you know when I land… you’re mine.”

I’d let the words hang before adding, low and certain:

“Cuh… he can’t make you feel this pretty. No, he wouldn’t make you feel this beautiful.”

Every time, she’d close her eyes like she was letting herself believe it.

But there’s something she never knew.

The first time I saw her, she was sitting alone on a cracked bench in the corner of the train station. Afternoon light fading, the air gold and dust-heavy. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen—still a kid we both were—but she looked like the world had already worn her down.

She was nursing a paper cup of coffee she wasn’t drinking, staring at nothing. Hands wrapped tight around it, like it was the only warmth she had.

There was a deep hurt in her eyes I’d never seen before—raw, unhidden. Like someone had just walked out of her life for good.

I remember thinking: This girl… she’s already living in a cold world.

I don’t know why I sat down beside her. Maybe it was the way she didn’t look away. Maybe it was because I saw a pain I recognized in myself. But in that moment, nothing else mattered—not where I was going, not who I’d been before.

And now, years later—through all the leaving and coming back, through all the wrongs we’ve done—I still see that girl every time I look at her.

Maybe that’s why I keep coming back.

Because no matter what she’s done, I’ll always be the man who makes her feel… pretty.

~The end~