losing to love

As I stared at the mirror, I looked like a queen. But as I adjusted the diamond necklace Jamie had bought me for my last birthday, I scoffed at the expensive apology for a dinner he’d missed; I felt more like a puppet. ​I rechecked the text message from Sarah. Be at Willmore Hall at 10 pm. I found it strange she had texted me using her private line and when I called her to ask what for, she told Jamie that I was being rude and asking questions. I heard from the background when Jamie said “Be there or you'll regret not coming.” I knew Sarah didn't like me. I wasn't blind. Although she was Jamie's best friend, she was always around him. She knew him more than I did. She had this huge crush on Jamie but she didn't say anything to him because it would ruin their friendship. She has always been against me and everything I do. I naively assumed she wouldn’t dare sabotage an evening this important to Jamie. I was wrong. ​As the taxi drove through the rain-slicked streets toward Willmore Hall, my mind drifted back to where this obsession began. Westbridge High. ​I could still see Jamie back then. He was the sun, and I was just a planet caught in his gravitational pull, desperate for a spark of warmth. I had always been the girl with spare pens and organised notes. And Jamie… Jamie was just the handsome quarterback everyone loved to sit beside. Lucky for me…. ​“Alex, you’re an angel,” he’d say, leaning against my desk with that half-smirk that made my stomach do somersaults. He’d hand me a crumpled sheet of paper along with his chemistry assignment or a rough draft of an essay. “I’ve got practice until seven. You think you could look this over? Fix the boring parts?” ​I stayed up until 2:00 AM fixing them. I was his lifesaver, I made sure he never got kicked off the team for having bad grades. I was his personal assistant and I hoped to become more. I’d bring him his favourite blue Gatorade after practice, standing by the bleachers like a loyal dog. He’d take the drink without looking at me, tossing a "Thanks, Al" over his shoulder as he walked away with his friends. ​I thought I was earning my way into his heart. I thought if I made myself indispensable, he would eventually realise he couldn't live without me. Ten years later, standing in the empty, silent lobby of The Willmore Hall, I realised I had succeeded—but not in the way I wanted. I was indispensable like a piece of furniture. You only notice it when it's missing, but you never think to say thank you to a chair. I didn't bother asking the receptionists any questions, I knew I had been tricked but not by Jamie. My phone buzzed. A text from Sarah. ‘Grand Hyatt. Sorry, my bad.’ Just great. She did it again and I was already late. I rushed outside and when I tried to call the taxi back, he zoomed off. I waited for a few minutes before the Uber I booked arrived. *** ​When I arrived, everyone kept glancing at me while whispering I was already used to it. All because of Sarah. When I had tried to show Jamie the kind of woman she was, I was slapped in front of the press by her mother. ​As I tried to look for him, I saw him immediately. He sat on the front table, looking like a king presiding over a court he found tedious. When he saw me, his mood changed, and his blue eyes darkened. ​"You're late, Alexandria," he whispered as I approached to kiss him. He didn't stand up to pull out my chair. He just checked his watch with a flick of his wrist. "Forty-two minutes late. I assume the traffic was only heavy for you?" ​"The address, Jamie," I panted, sliding into the empty seat beside him. My hand brushed his arm, and he flinched. "Sarah sent me the wrong address… I have the proof here." ​I fumbled with my clutch, trying to pull out my phone, but Sarah, who was seated on his other side, interjected with a sigh. ​"Oh, Alexandria," Sarah whispered, her voice dripping with faux-sympathy. "I sent the correction five minutes later. Didn't you see it? I felt so bad, I even called your cell, but it went straight to voicemail." ​I knew I hadn't gotten a call, but I still checked my phone. No call. I looked back at Sarah who was now smiling. She knew exactly what she was doing. And Jamie? Jamie was looking at Sarah as if she were the competent one, the reliable one. “I…” ​"Enough," Jamie said, his voice cutting through my defence. "I don't care whose fault it is. You're a mess, Alexandria. Fix your hair and try to act as if you belong here. I have a merger to close." ​The rest of the night was a slow-motion car crash. I sat there, picking at a lobster thermidor that tasted like paint. ​I watched the way Jamie interacted with people. He was brilliant. He could charm a room with a single sentence, pivoting from politics to economics with a terrifying grace. But when his gaze accidentally fell on me, the glint in his eyes disappeared. ​It was a special kind of torture to be loved by everyone and hated by your husband. ​I remembered the early days of our marriage, the trauma that brought us together and what came after. I had thought that being his wife would finally mean I had achieved my dreams. I thought the errands would stop. ​But they didn't. Even now, Jamie would text me at 11:00 PM from his study, saying:Bring me a Scotch. Two ice cubes. And find my blue folder.” Sometimes I feel like he planned the night everything began. From getting me drunk to getting me pregnant and then I ended up losing the baby after we got married. ​I always felt like he just wanted me close because he needed someone obedient. But that was alright as long as it made him happy and warmed my heart. I didn't know how to picture my life without him. That was why I accepted. ​Sarah's laughter pulled me out of my thoughts. She was laughing at something Jamie said, and her hand kept lingering on his sleeve. He didn't even flinch when she touched him. Nor did he pull away. He was okay with her touching him. I glanced at my hand. I guess mine was rotten. ​As the waiters cleared the dessert plates, a woman from the neighbouring table leaned over. "You're so lucky, Alexandria," she chirped. "Jamie is so devoted to his work. A man like that needs a rock at home." ​’A rock, I thought. Because rocks don't feel. Rocks don't bleed.’ ​I looked at Jamie, His perfect profile, his hands, his brilliant, heartless mind. For five years, I had been his rock. I had endured the silence, the public slights, and the crushing weight of his indifference. I had waited for the boy who asked me to fix his essays to turn into a man who asked me how my day was. ​He would never. ​I put my hand under the tablecloth, as I traced the edge of my wedding band. It was beautiful and meaningless—just like everything he got for me. ​Our fifth anniversary is in three days. Half a decade of being married to someone who wouldn't give a s**t if I died today. ​I felt a strangely terrifying calm crashing over me. I wasn't angry anymore. That was the scary part. The fire of my love for him, which had burned since I was sixteen years old, was finally running out of oxygen. I was tired of it all. ​I leaned in, and my voice was steady for the first time that night. "Jamie?" ​He didn't look at me. He was signing a document Sarah had placed in front of him. "What is it, Alexandria? If you're going to complain about your stupid headache again—" ​"I'm going home," I said quietly. ​That got his attention. He paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He turned his head slowly, his eyes scanning my face for the usual signs of weakness, of tears, of pleading. ​He found nothing. ​"The driver is downstairs," he said, his voice suspicious. "I'll be here for another hour. I have to finish the toast with the board." ​"Yeah, sure," I said, smiling sadly. "Enjoy your toast, Jamie. You earned it." ​I stood up, smoothing my dress. I didn't wait for him to finish what he was about to say, I walked out of that ballroom with my head held high. People were going to talk, but of course, I needed to start making decisions for myself and start standing up to him. I kept thinking of his reaction on the drive home. I wonder what he'll say when he gets back.