Love Forsaken, Never to Return

Eight Years with Terence Barnes.

It took me eight years to realize that I could never compete with Pearlie Ballar, the girl he had been spoiling since forever. Her chirpy “Uncle Terry” could make my otherwise steady and composed fiancée lose his footing.

By the ninth time he ditched me to rush to her side, I’d had enough.  I yanked off my pitiful wedding ring and tossed it into the trash. I turned and walked away without looking back.

That’s when he finally panicked, probably because he didn’t expect me to fight back, let alone walk away.

***

The ninth time Terence dropped everything for Pearlie, I watched his retreating back in a daze, feeling the heavy finality settle over us. There was no going back.

I pulled out the transfer request that had been collecting dust in the far corner of my closet. Without hesitation, I signed my name, sealed the envelope and handed it off to the courier.

That’s when the pain hit—sharp and unbearable, clawing at my abdomen. I collapsed to the floor, instinctively reaching for my phone. My thumb hovered over Terence’s number before I stopped myself. If I was leaving, there was no need to bother him anymore. Instead, I dialed for an ambulance.

I never made it to the ambulance. The pain knocked me out cold. By the time I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, the antiseptic smell stinging my nose.

“Good, you’re awake.” A nurse approached, checking my vitals. She frowned as she jotted something down. “You had a ruptured ovarian cyst,” she said, her tone somewhere between firm and sympathetic. “Don’t think just because you’re young, you can abuse your body like this. It’s dangerous.”

Dangerous. Her words took me back to the previous night.

Terence and I had gone to his mother’s birthday dinner. Everything seemed normal until Pearlie showed up, practically glued to the arm of some young guy with a boy-next-door grin.

Terence’s grip on his fork tightened, his knuckles turning white. His eyes were cold and sharp, fixated on her every move. When Pearlie excused herself to the bathroom, Terence couldn’t follow fast enough.

Mrs. Barnes nudged me to check on him, so I slipped out quietly, only to find him cornering Pearlie by the restroom door.

“Pearlie,” his voice was low, thick with irritation—and jealousy, “how many times do I have to tell you to stay away from guys like him?”

“Uncle Terry?” Her voice wavered, but her words were defiant, “you get to be with Brigitte, why can’t I be with someone I like?”

His response was a bitter mix of jealousy and frustration. “You’re too young. I won’t let you ruin your life like this.”

“And what do you think you’re doing, pretending you love her?” She sobbed and continue, “Do you really love Brigitte? Or are you just too scared to admit what you actually feel?”

Silence stretched between them. I leaned closer and that’s when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of a kiss.

The walls around me seemed to collapse. I pressed myself against the wall, swallowing back the bile rising in my throat. Their actions ripped my heart wide open, only to stomp all over it.

Later that night, Terence unleashed all his frustration on me in bed. It wasn’t love—it was a torment.

When it was over, I clutched my stomach and told him I was in pain. “Can you take me to the hospital?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t even look at me. Propped against the headboard, he sighed. “It’s late. Just take some painkillers; you’ll be fine.”

Moments later, his phone buzzed. One ring and he was already out of bed, answering it. His whole demeanor changed when he saw the caller ID.

“Pearl says her stomach hurts. I need to check on her,” he mumbled, pulling on his clothes. Before I could say anything, he was out of my sight, disappearing into the hallway. The door closed behind him and silence settled in the room, leaving only my lonely, hurried breaths.

The smell of disinfectant in the air stung my nose.

The night passed and my phone stayed silent, except for a post from Pearlie, reminding me to check her social media.