“It was meant for you. I only ever wanted it to be for you,” he looks at me with those big forgive-me-please eyes. Those big blue eyes I could still get lost in forever.

“I can’t accept it, Lyle. I can’t.” No matter how badly I want to yank the journal from his hands, look at every page one by one and then tear it up, I can’t. I never can. That would only break me and I’ve just begun to heal.

“I was going to give it to you on your birthday. I wrote every poem about you,” he whispers the last part as if letting me in on a secret.

My heart pangs. I’m no longer his muse, I’m no longer the girl who could do no wrong in his eyes. I’m nobody to him. No one at all. And he’s nobody to me anymore. Not after everything he has done. Why does he act like I’m not nothing? Why does he make it harder than it needs to be.

“I think you should keep it, Lyle. I gave that journal to you first, remember? You should get to keep it.”

“I still care about you, Annie. I care about you so much.”

Please don’t. Please don’t do this. Please don’t make me love you again with a love that never really actually fades away. Because how can it after I loved him so deeply and completely and wholey. Please don’t unearth my love for you.

“Please, keep it Lyle. To remember me.”

He nods and takes a step closer. Avery shoots me a strange look and I wave her off. “Well, let me know if you ever want it.”

“Sounds good,” I sigh, turning away.

“Hey, by the way. I wanted to congratulate you on everything you accomplished. You’re amazing and I’m so proud of you. You are such a good person, Annie. I want you to know that.”

I want to say a hundred things. I want to scream that if I’m such a good person why would he say all those awful things to me, why would he break up with me the way he had, why would he complain every day about how I didn’t do enough, was never enough for him. I want to scream that I still love him that a part of me always will that I am dying to see that journal and the poetry he wrote about me. I want to tell him to go screw himself for messing with me like this. I want to say that I still care for him too, will always still care for him.

But some things are better left unsaid.

“Thank you, Lyle. Goodnight.”