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MidReal Story
The Truth About My Girl
Scenario:When I first started dating Emmy, I thought she was perfect. Sweet, caring, and easy to be around. But over time, her mask slipped.
A year into our relationship, and she’s turned into someone I barely recognize. Arrogant, critical, and always reminding me how her ex did everything better. Every little thing I do feels like a mistake.
Tonight is no different. I’m late picking her up after her girls’ night, thanks to the traffic. The moment I see her, she’s already scowling.
“Seriously? My ex would’ve been here early—and he wouldn’t be driving a crap car like this!”
Create my version of this story
Jamie Bennett
boyfriend,relationships with Emmy and friends,average build,brown hair,conflicted and patient
Emmy Knight
girlfriend,relationship with Jamie and friends,slender with blonde hair,initially sweet but now critical
Natalia Hayes
mutual friend of Jamie and Emmy,supportive of Jamie
"Seriously? My God, seriously?"
She shakes her head and throws her handbag into the passenger seat.
"You knew I was out with the girls tonight. You said you’d pick me up at seven. It’s ten past seven, and now—this!"
She waves a hand at my beat-up Ford Ranger.
I killed the engine but remain seated with my hands resting on the steering wheel.
A slow smile curls up one side of my mouth in an effort to deflect her mood.
"I am here."
"That’s true."
Her tone remains unimpressed as she climbs into the passenger seat and fastens her seatbelt without looking at me once.
"Although it appears you’ve arrived by horseback or something. Where is this? Seriously, what kind of car is this?"
It stings that she doesn’t like any part of it—from my being late to where I park or even what kind of vehicle I own—but there isn’t anything I can do about any part of it right now.
I turn to her, keeping my voice steady.
"I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad."
She scoffs, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, not bothering to look at me once.
I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.
The old car rumbles to life, and I keep my eyes on the road, occasionally glancing over at her.
She remains silent, arms crossed over her c##t, her s##l deepening with each passing second.
I try to think of something else to say, but there isn’t anything that will make this better.
"You know, it's not just the car or the time," she finally says, her voice softer now.
I glance over, surprised by the shift in her tone.
"It's about feeling like I'm not a priority, like I'm just another thing on your to-do list."
At the next red light, I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, my eyes flicking to her profile.
I'd picked up a gift for her earlier today, hoping to surprise her.
It's a delicate silver bracelet with her birthstone in the center.
It's in a small velvet box in the glove compartment.
My hand inches toward it, then pulls back.
I know better than to give her a gift when she's already p##d at me.
She shifts in her seat and pulls out her phone, typing furiously on the screen.
In the reflection of the windshield, I see her wiping her eyes.
The light turns green, and I navigate through three more intersections before I reach another stoplight.
The silence between us is heavy and thick, like a thick fog that refuses to lift.
I'm aware of the small box in the glove compartment growing heavier in my thoughts.
Finally, at another stoplight, I reach over and pop open the glove compartment.
I pull over to the curb, the engine idling, and let my hand hover over the velvet box.
Emmy still doesn't look up, her eyes fixed on her phone as she continues to sniffle.
My hand shakes as I open the box and lift out the bracelet.
The streetlight casts harsh shadows on Emmy's face when I hold it out to her, but she doesn't look up.
Her mascara is slightly smeared under her eyes, and my stomach twists at the thought that I've made her c#y.
I fumble with the clasp, almost dropping it before finally opening it.
The silver bracelet catches the light from the streetlamp, glinting purple where Emmy's birthstone is nestled in the center.
For a moment, she continues typing on her phone before looking up at me.
The anger has shifted in her expression, replaced now with curiosity.
"Can we start over?"
She holds out her wrist, and I fumble with the delicate silver chain, trying to fasten it around her thin wrist.
Her eyes are fixed on the bracelet as I work, the clasp hidden under the p##e stone.
Under the streetlight, my fingers feel c##y and a###d as I try to secure it.
The bracelet slips in my sweaty grip, and Emmy's phone buzzes again, but she ignores it.
I finally get the clasp locked in place, and she rotates her wrist slowly, watching how the bracelet catches the light.
Her breathing steadies, and the sobs from earlier fade away.
She uses her sleeve to dab at the mascara smudges under her eyes before lifting her chin to look at me.
I nod toward the park, gesturing to the walking path lit by scattered lampposts.
Emmy nods, still examining the bracelet, and I step out to open her door.
The gravel crunches under our feet as we walk toward the path.
Her heels click against the pavement, and she keeps a careful distance between us as she wraps her arms around herself against the evening chill.
I remove my jacket and offer it to her, but she shakes her head.
Her phone buzzes again in her purse, but this time she ignores it.
I lead her to a wooden bench set back from the path, its slats weathered to a soft gray.
The nearest lamppost casts an orange glow over the empty playground, the swings hanging still in the evening air.
Emmy sits at the far end of the bench, leaving a gap between us, and shifts her weight as the slats creak beneath her.
The silver bracelet catches the light from the lamppost as she fidgets with it, twisting it around her wrist and staring ahead at the empty playground.
Her phone buzzes again in her purse, and this time she glances at it before ignoring it once more.
"Why did you really give me this?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I take a deep breath, the words heavy on my tongue.
"Because I wanted to remind you of what we used to be before everything got so complicated."
She turns to look at me, her eyes searching in the dim light.
Her fingers trace the purple stone, and I watch her face as she processes my words.
The bracelet catches the glow from the lamppost, casting a golden light across her skin.
The playground equipment casts long shadows across the gravel path, and the wind carries the scent of Emmy's perfume as she shifts on the bench.
The gap between us closes inch by inch as she leans toward my side.
Her phone buzzes again in her purse, but this time she doesn't even glance at it.
"I didn't think you remembered," she says, her voice trembling slightly.
"How could I forget?" I reply, my voice steady but soft.
She smiles faintly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she whispers, "Maybe we can find our way back."
