My Favorite Stranger

17

"You were with someone?" Tristan asked.

Mya took a sip of her water, watching many guests walk by. The summit was especially crowded tonight. The last night being extravagant and worth celebrating — not to her of course, but many saw the summit as a vacation.

She'd found a reason to celebrate as of late, but her celebration wasn't here right now.

Tristan stood next to her with a small platter of appetizers in his hand, patiently waiting for Mya to answer. Mya thought about the only time he could've possibly seen her with Jessie. Then again, they had reserved seating all week. Together. Why wouldn't he notice she wasn't there?

Her heart rate sped up just a little and she argued with herself about giving a damn. There was no need to be nervous. He couldn't say or do anything important.

Mya cleared her throat, taking a short breath before replying back. "Yes, I brought a guest along with me."

"Didn't know you had friends up here," Tristan said. "That boss guy from Segments told me he spoke to you and your friend."

Mya shrugged a shoulder, keeping her eyes straight ahead, but inside she was a little panicked. "There's a lot you don't know anymore."

Tristan ignored the comment. "You weren't at the table either."

"I left," Mya confirmed before he could ask.

"I've been meaning to talk to you. Can we?"

"What?"

"Talk."

Mya used all her strength not to roll her eyes. Every time they talk it never ends well for Mya and she truly had nothing more to say to him. She didn't understand why he always had something to say when he was the one that left. The scene from last week should've been enough. It clearly wasn't.

"I told you I have nothing more to say to you," Mya said. Anger quickly bubbled in her chest. Her love all taken for granted. All just an illusion.

"I know. You don't have to say anything—"

"And what more do you have to say to me?" Mya spat quietly, locking eyes with the culprit before her. "Haven't you said enough? Are you going to apologize again? I don't take sorry's anymore, Tristan. Sorry, you were a dickhead. Sorry, you didn't want a relationship. Sorry for giving you all of me and overwhelming you. I'm done with this conversation, with you. I'm not giving you or anyone else power over this anymore. So don't even think for a second I want to hear you grovel now."

Mya's eyes burned with tears that she held back with all her might. It killed her every time to treat him like this. To push him away and pretend as if his mere existence was poison. Because in reality, Tristan was a decent man.

He was hardworking and dedicated for the most part and always remained enthusiastic so his peers could feed off of his energy. He was a good friend — a better friend than a boyfriend, that was for sure. He had a list of faults that made a relationship with him rocky.

He didn't know how to navigate commitment and all of his attention was dispersed amongst several women and what a pity that was.

Mya knew she wasn't perfect, but at least she was committed and transparent.

She still loved him, it was true. She thought about it pretty hard whenever she was alone and away from Jessie. But she also learned that she loved herself more than she loved him, even if it didn't feel like it. Even if it may never feel like it again.

Letting go is something one can never really prepare for. It is often one of those things that people are blindsided by. And one can never really know when they're ready to let go until they do. It's a necessary, painful, and lonely process that sucks the soul out of you.