This is the last time.
This is the last time our fingers will lace together, the last time we will crunch through the leaves on the sidewalk, the last time we will wait together for the stoplight to change from red to green.
I must make a pained noise, because he glances up, concern in his eyes.
I shake my head and exhale, my breath freezing in the crisp air.
This is the last time he will hold the door of the coffee shop open for me. It is the last time he will order a medium caramel macchiato and a black coffee, the last time he will pull out a seat for me at our favorite table next to the window.
He looks up from his drink and asks if I’m all right. Not trusting myself to speak, I nod.
It is the last time we will descend the stairs that lead to the subway. It is the last time he will kiss me on the platform. It is the last time I will see him walking away from me.
And then he is gone.
This is the first time.
This is the first time I walk back the way I came without him, the first time I am not afraid to go home, the first time I have directly defied him.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I take a calming breath.
When I let it out, a weight lifts from my chest.
This is the first time I am doing something for myself since meeting him. It is the first time I am choosing to be brave, the first time I am truly happy.
I smile at a stranger on the sidewalk.
This is the first time I am unlocking the door to our apartment by myself. It is the first time I am putting my belongings into my car without him. It is the first time in five years that I am driving by myself.
And then I am gone.
