Just Last The Year

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: 'The Odd Ones'

It says "Romance", when I really mean "Holy Sh*t I'm Broken".

Title and idea based off of Skinny Love by Birdy.

His cold eyes met mine, looking deep at my soul. I could never see his, but he had a talent for hiding things. Sometimes, they were important. Most of the time, he was just petty.
"How was your day?"
"Fine." The response had grown meaningless on my tongue. He had stopped listening, switched off. He did that quite often, simply turned off his attention whenever I talked. He was so disinterested I often wondered why he even asked anymore.
"Sounds great."
Our conversations were never as long as they used to be. We used to lie beside each other, talking for hours, staring at the stars or the ceiling, drinking wine or tea. It didn't matter. It never mattered.
"Did you bring the dinner?"
"Just the milk. I've already got some chicken in the fridge."

We ate in silence. He was typing something on his computer. He would never show me what he was doing on there. It still didn't matter. I loved him anyway.


He started staying out later and later, leaving me at home to look after the house. At least, that's how he put it. I wondered if he was gambling again. It wouldn't matter.

I had read almost every book in house in the time he was gone every night. I had made every bed, had mended every tear in his clothes, had watched every film we used to watch together.

He would return every morning with a bouque of flowers and an apology. Our living room was more flora-filled than a jungle, more sweet-smelling than a perfume shop. I would always forgive him. Would always kiss him, and tell him it was alright, that he didn't need to worry about me. I was an adult, I could take care of myself.

It didn't matter. I still loved him anyway.


"I think we need to talk."
"What's wrong, sweetheart? Have you lost your job?"
"No, I haven't lost my job." He had sighed, putting his hands up to his face. "I understand that this isn't the best time. But I feel like you deserve to know."

I looked into those same bright eyes I had fallen in love with when I was just a silly little girl.
"Know what?"
"I have recently...not been entirely happy with all the things in my life as of now. I want you to know that this was my decision, and you couldn't have done much to prevent this from happening. You see, I've...been seeing other people."

He had left the following day, packing up all his clothes and belongings into his large leather suitcase. I ha stood there while he did it, not saying a word. There was nothing to say. He was leaving his home.

As he had shut the door in my face, leaving his family and life behind, I gently caressed my stomach where his baby was sleeping.

It didn't matter. I kept loving him anyway.


I had only seen him once after that, walking down the street with a woman on his arm. She was pretty, and he had looked happy. She was pregant too.

With his child? I could not be sure.

His eyes had vaguely grazed mine, but then moved somewhere else, as if I were just a stranger in the street. He said something to the woman and she had laughed loudly and squeezed his arm.

I had stood still the entire time until his was no longer in sight, twisting the gold ring on my finger which I never took off.

After all, I loved him anyway.


"Mum! Mum! Watch this Mum!"
Our daughter looked so much like him, his bright eyes, his crooked smile. It hurt to look at her, but I did it to hold onto the last piece of him I had left.
"That's lovely, sweetheart."
She grinned up at me, splashing about in the pool. I gave her a small smile back and pushed some of her long, wet hair out of her face.
She had come to me six years before. She often asked about her father. I told her what a great man he was. She asked me if he loved her. I told her that yes, her father loved her very much, he just didn't know it. I told her that he couldn't come back because he was busy. Always busy, working halfway across the world.

After a while, I had convinced myself too.

She then asked if she would ever meet him. I told her that one day, when she was very old, she'd meet him with the angels. She asked if I was coming too.

I told her I was.

Despite everything, I loved him still.

But she was the only one who had loved me back.

Submitted: November 26, 2016

© Copyright 2023 Labyrinth Black. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


Jeff Bezaire

She is indeed a broken woman. It's sad when people live in such deep denial. It takes guts to accept the fact-of-the-matter and to continue on with life.
The last line is particularly saddening, but I can't decipher if it's a happy sad or a sad sad. There's definitely the trace of an uplifting note in there, that she does have love in her life; the love of her child. But the fact she continues to love the man who screwed her over is sad. A person doesn't have to be angry or bitter in that kind of situation, but to continue loving and to forgive a person so easily as if they've done nothing wrong is frustrating to me - letting them get away with zero accountability for their actions is frustrating.
The way you illustrated the love they once had for each other by detailing the things this woman now does on her own strongly resonates a pitiable feeling. She feels like a woman who is dead inside; she is so detached from the reality of her situation.
I must say though, when she mentions how her little girl looks so much like her ex that it pains her, but she continues to love her daughter anyways - that was a nice moment. Too often, kids of a failed relationship are neglected or scorned when they look too much like one of their parents. Even though she only loves her daughter in order to hold onto that last piece of her ex, it's still a hopeful moment to know her daughter isn't being neglected.
What a sad woman.
This is a powerful piece, Labby! The way you've written this, I can see it so clearly in my mind. There's a lot of emotion in the words. An emotionally provoking story.

Mon, November 28th, 2016 9:56pm


Haha, thank you Jeff! Yes, it frustrates me too, but I felt like there aren't enough examples of this throughout writing. It always feels so healthy and that's not what I was trying to convey here. She can't let him go, even if she can hold onto something new.

Mon, November 28th, 2016 2:04pm

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