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!”
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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!”
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
It’s been a few months since Emmy and I started going out.
At first, she was really sweet.
But now, she’s always on my case about something.
I feel like I can’t do anything right anymore.
And it doesn’t help that she constantly brings up her ex, who was apparently perfect.
I’ve tried to be patient and understanding, but it’s getting harder and harder.
"Emmy, I told you. I was working late with some friends. I wasn’t out at some bar with girls all over the place."
I try to keep my voice calm, but Emmy is making this conversation extremely difficult.
"I don’t know why you feel the need to lie to me, Jamie," she huffs.
"I just told you, I’m not lying."
"Why should I believe you? Your friends are all players. I’m sure you’re just like them," she snaps.
"Emmy, I swear. Nothing happened. Can we just drop it?"
I sigh.
"Fine, but if I find out you’re lying to me, it will be over between us," she warns.
I want to tell her that if she didn’t trust me, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.
But I don’t want to lose her.
I reach for her hand, trying to ease the tension.
At first, she pulls away.
But then she lets me take it in mine.
I intertwine our fingers, feeling the familiar comfort of her soft skin.
The scent of her perfume fills my nostrils, and I’m reminded of the good times we had before all this started.
I move in closer, feeling drawn to her despite the way things have been between us lately.
She looks up at me, and for a moment I see a flicker of the sweet Emmy I used to know.
I brush a strand of hair from her face and she doesn’t pull away.
My heart beats faster as I lean in slowly, unsure if she will accept my kiss or push me away again.
But when our lips meet, she kisses back.
Only it’s not gentle or loving like it used to be.
Instead, it’s almost like she’s trying to prove a point.
I’m not sure what that point is, but I don’t feel like I’m the one winning.
I pull back, feeling a little confused.
Emmy looks away, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I’m sorry," she says softly.
"For what?"
I ask, feeling a little bewildered.
"For being so difficult. I just feel like you’re always working late and hanging out with your friends. I feel like I never see you anymore."
"Emmy, I told you. I was working late tonight. And I was with my friends. But we weren’t at a bar. We were at the gym."
"I know. You already told me that," she says quietly.
"I just wish things could go back to the way they used to be."
I nod, feeling a pang of sadness.
I wish things could go back to the way they used to be too.
But I’m not sure if that’s possible anymore.
We sit there in silence for a minute, and then Emmy pulls her hand away from mine.
"I should get going," she says softly.
"Okay," I reply, feeling a little disappointed.
She gets out of the car and walks off into her house without looking back.
I watch her go, feeling a knot in my stomach.
I can’t help but wonder if we’re going to be okay. The next night, Emmy has a girls’ night out with her friends.
She asks me to pick her up from the restaurant where they’re eating dinner.
I agree, even though I have an early shift at work the next day and would rather be sleeping than driving around at midnight.
But Emmy doesn’t seem to care about that when she asks me to pick her up.
So I get in my car and head over to the restaurant.
When I pull into the parking lot, Emmy is already standing outside waiting for me.
She gets in the car and barely says hello before she starts complaining about how late I am.
"Jamie, you said you’d be here twenty minutes ago," she says as soon as she closes the door behind her.
"I’m sorry. Traffic was bad."
"Well, you should’ve left earlier," she snaps.
"Emmy, come on. It’s not that big of a deal."
"It is a big deal," she says angrily.
"You’re always running late and acting like it’s no big deal. It’s rude."
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, trying not to let her get to me.
I remember the flowers I bought earlier in the day.
I reach behind my seat, feeling around in the darkness until my fingers brush against the cellophane wrapping.
The crinkling sound fills the car as I pull out the small bouquet of pink carnations - Emmy’s favorite flower from our first date.
Emmy glances up from her phone, and her expression changes from annoyed to surprised.
But before I can even hand them to her, she scoffs.
"Flowers? Really? That’s your solution to everything."
"Emmy, I just wanted to do something nice for you," I say, feeling a bit deflated.
"Nice? Or are you trying to distract me from the fact that you’re always late?" she retorts.
"Maybe I just miss the days when we didn’t argue over every little thing," I admit, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice.
Emmy doesn’t respond.
She just looks back down at her phone, her expression unreadable.
I sigh and put the flowers back behind my seat.
I pull out of the parking lot and start driving.
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, and I can feel the tension between us growing thicker.
Finally, Emmy speaks up.
"Where are we going?"
"I was going to take you home," I say.
"But if you want to go somewhere else, we can."
"No. Home is fine."
I nod and keep driving.
After a few more minutes of silence, Emmy speaks up again.
"Actually, can we stop somewhere first?"
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
"There’s a park nearby. Can we stop there for a minute?"
I nod and turn off onto the next street.
The park is just a few blocks away, and I pull into the parking lot in front of the playground.
It’s late, so there aren’t any kids around.
But there are a few couples walking hand in hand on the path that runs through the park.
Emmy gets out of the car, and I follow her.
We walk over to the swings, and Emmy sits down on one of them.
I sit down on the swing next to her, but I don’t pump my legs like I used to when we were kids. Instead, I just sit there looking at Emmy.
She looks back at me for a second, then turns her attention to the grass beneath our feet.
We sit there in silence for a few minutes, and then Emmy speaks up again.
"This is where we had our first date," she says softly.
"I remember," I reply.
"You took me here after dinner. We walked around the park and talked for hours."
Emmy nods, looking down at her hands clasped together in her lap.
"I remember how much fun I had that night," she says softly.
"I liked you from that first date."
"I liked you too," I say gently.
"I’m sorry about tonight. I know I’ve been late a lot lately. It’s just been busy at work."
Emmy looks up at me, and for a second I see tears in her eyes.
Then she blinks them away and looks back down at her hands. "I know," she says softly.
"It’s not just that. It’s everything."
I get up from my swing and walk over to hers.
I reach out and gently touch her shoulder with my fingertips.
Emmy looks up, her eyes searching mine, and whispers, "I just need to know if we're still worth fighting for."