“Once upon a time there was light in my life.

But now there’s only love in the dark.”

“Total Eclipse of the Heart” ~ Bonnie Tyler

As my workload and stress level rose due to the firm’s layoffs of staff and senior staff personnel, I felt as if the busy tax season restarted. The firm did not part with any of its upper level management employees, and would never layoff someone they were promoting to partner in less than two months. Although I felt secure professionally, I couldn’t say the same personally—relying on Vicodin to help see me through my days. I didn’t feel addicted to it, but I did have an affinity for it. After two weeks on it, I’d have to make an adjustment with only three pills for the entire week. Mondays were especially brutal as I dreaded walking into the office to receive assignments, I not only didn’t want to do but was overqualified for. I looked forward to my own bed and not one in places that would never make anyone’s vacation hotspot list. The Vicodin got me through days with a smile on my face—days I would’ve called in sick without them. There were a few times I could admit I needed them, but I didn’t feel that way every time I took them. I knew the danger in them, and the risk it presented, but I always felt in control—the most important thing. I could probably sweet talk my mother into two or three pills—here and there from time to time, but I felt confident after I got through this week with only three, I wouldn’t feel a desire to take twenty or more from her. I was very health conscious—I ate well and worked out at least five days a week for the last five years. Even when I was out of town, I’d head to a gym to get a work-out in if I had to. Since my rant about her “house guest” though that caused her to pull away from me, I hadn’t gone to the gym.

Since it was a Monday, I didn’t want to bother Anya. When I didn’t hear from her for the entire day, I couldn’t help but feel sad. It wasn’t on her to say “good morning” each day nor was it her duty to reach out to me. With her love in question, something I know she didn’t appreciate, I felt I had to let her reach out to me—to confirm why it should never be questioned. I believed she loved me, but the problem was she led me to believe she felt the same love I did. My love was without question, and she knew if she did question it, I’d show her in a hurry how wrong she was—but I couldn’t say the same for her. I felt her love began to fade away, and there were some things I did that caused that, but the kind of love she led me to believe she had would never fail to catch me—yet it did. Her love changed because my love did too—it became greater. Taken our time in San Diego, nothing held her love back yet when my love grew because of the love she showed me—she pulled herself away. I expected that from someone who didn’t love me, and not from someone who did. After eighteen months, I found a hard time adjusting to her different way of loving me because it felt like she did with no plan to ever be with me, and it left me to feel betrayed. To put a legitimate face on it, and to rationalize what she did, I feared she called it love and it’s why I subconsciously held back from sharing my deepest fantasies with her. I wanted to experience everything under the sun with her, but I suffered when she left me, and it seemed like she didn’t at all—she had another outlet. When she was “too busy” to text me, it didn’t feel like love at all and so that’s why I let her text me, not because I felt she should, but so I could gauge what her true feelings were. At the same time, my lifelong belief in true love and that I’ve finally found it through Anya was hard to give up on. I couldn’t accept she didn’t truly love me—it would be the end of my dream. I had to give her a chance to prove me wrong, and when I could finally disclose my promotion to partner with her that it would come through. In the meantime, the silence on the phone made it hard to ignore the questions that burned inside me.

At five minutes past four that afternoon however, she broke her silence.

ANYA: “Just wanted to say hi.”

Her sadness seemed to jump off my phone’s screen—a disappointment I hadn’t reached out to her—or maybe that’s how I wanted to decipher it. I also knew the past four days were extremely busy for her with Katie’s graduation and recital. It wouldn’t be fair to question her love all because she was too exhausted or was trying to get back in her regular routine. Unfortunately, I had to take a Vicodin to get me through the silence and now only had two pills left.

ME: “Hi! Happy to hear from you! It’s unanyalike to not hear from you at all! Are you through with both the recital and all of Katie’s grad festivities now?”

ANYA: “Unanyalike? I like that word! Yes both.”

I demonstrated patience and gave her the time she needed to focus on Katie’s graduation and recital. It also gave me time to sort out my head a little bit—mostly the emotions I felt over the texts she sent me. I wanted to see if we could now get together to clarify the part of my texts that upset her. I wanted to understand her side of things and used the time away to get my emotions in check so I could attempt to, and to square away the things I said that inspired the respite between us. I knew this wasn’t a good time to bring them up, so I didn’t push it. Just before I shut down for the night, and after she probably shut off her phone, I sent her a text to see if we could get together to talk about what went wrong. She acknowledged my text early the next morning.

ANYA: “I’m not ignoring your texts. Of course I miss u and love u. Of course I considered your point of view. Of course you put your heart on the line and so did I. Just don’t want to keep pointing out the obvious.”

If she considered my point of view and she stilled loved and missed me, it didn’t seem necessary to revisit. I didn’t want to upset her and I agreed—why keep pointing out the obvious? If she put her heart on the line, the same way I did, then I wanted to make this better for her. I apologized for my misinterpretation of her house guest—that was solely on me. If she was fine with what we texted each other, and she found it in her heart to forgive me then I could find it in mine to do the same. All I wanted to know now was what I texted that upset her. When she hurt me—I hurt alone. When I hurt her—she hurt around others, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do that to her again. If I didn’t know what it was specifically that upset her—it could happen again.

ME: “Well I think I’m going to take another week off. I was going to take a leave of absence but they laid off some of the audit staff because of the economy. I can’t take a large amount of time off right now. The firm needs me.”

ANYA: “If you had any two places to go on your vacation, which two places would you choose?”

When she asked me this question, I wanted to tell her Seattle and Paris, France—only because I wanted to go to those places with her. I feared if I told her that though, she would think I wanted to go without her. Lost without her—I didn’t want to mention any place that brought me any further away from her I that already felt.

ME: “My first choice is obvious; my second choice would be to stay home. Would love to spend some time with you.”

ANYA: “Home? Out of all the places u could visit you’d rather be home? Katie is very sick right now. I’m going to wait a couple of days and see how she does.”

When she replied “home?”, it bummed me out because I hoped to hear something consistent with her missing and love. When she mentioned Katie was sick only after what I wrote, it brought me back to the time when nothing stopped her from seeing me—when fear never existed in the same heart. As disappointed as I was by her response, I couldn’t take it personally. It was a very thoughtful thing to ask me and Katie’s health was paramount.

ME: “Oh no, I’m very sorry to hear she’s sick. I guess she’s had a lot on her plate. I hope she gets well soon. Ok. Sounds good.”

ANYA: “I asked Katie what she wanted for her grad gift thinking new Ipod or camera or something. Boy was I off! She wants an Imac! She’s even asking for a 24” screen! No way!”

When Anya revealed what Katie wanted for her graduation gift, I felt a spark inside me—I missed hearing about her kids and that part of Anya too. When she shared this news with me, it also left me a bit disheartened—that the man who knew her better than any other man couldn’t even buy her a gift.

ME: “OMG! I wish I could buy it for her. I would if I could. The “24” inch screen is no big deal—I’m sure she would use it for school and put it to good use.”

ANYA: “Awww very sweet of you.”

It didn’t surprise me to hear Katie was very sick. She graduated from middle school, had a grad party, went to Cabo, and then had a three-day recital and party—all in a seven-day span. What was more astonishing was that Anya didn’t get sick at all—a miracle in its own right. I felt Katie deserved an Imac, and the twenty-four-inch screen too. She worked extremely hard, did well in school and should be rewarded for it. When Anya said “no way” to the 24-inch screen, I was proud of Anya for being a good parent—to not give in to what Katie wanted even though she deserved it. I wanted to buy it for Katie but within Anya’s shadow, but I didn’t want to put Anya in another deceptive spot. I couldn’t help but wish I knew Katie so I could get her a grad gift. I also knew though, as much as Anya denied it in her text, Katie would get an IMAC with a 24-inch screen simply because “what is a mother to do”?

Katie deserved everything she worked for and it was important she received positive reinforcement for her effort but I then realized I forgot a missing part of this—wasn’t the trip to Cabo her graduation gift? When I realized this, it stung for the simple reason I had no idea what Anya put me up against when we first met. She told me there was a lion in this den, but not a pride of them. I didn’t know what to think. One part of me, wanted to love and hold her for what compelled her to allow me into her life—it’s the part of me I wanted to believe in. The other part of me had never felt more betrayed—I didn’t know what way to feel. Anya knew everything I faced the night she approached me at Sonomas yet in her mind the fact I knew she was “married” also represented a disclosure of all these things—like all things inherent in the sun. Anya and her “family” lived a life different from most—a business, close knit neighbors and even political aspirations that forced the family to hold on. Without my knowledge, by loving Anya, an emotionally abused woman who was cheated on by the man who claimed to honor her, also meant I didn’t love her kids—all because I wanted to be with the one, I loved. The longer Anya told me “I don’t know”, the more I believed she always did—her politics in play, and not her love. I felt I became a victim to her idea of politics and that somehow love was tied to its tactics. If Anya needed to hide the details of her marriage so I could save her then I didn’t feel betrayed by that or all—nor a victim of her politics. If I didn’t need to know because we would soon be together then I could understand when she told me she couldn’t help it. I didn’t want her to help it—I wanted to save her so she would never feel that way again. After eighteen months had passed, and she still didn’t know after all we shared, then it left me to feel she hid those things from me to bait, manipulate and then control me. Lance had to have felt what I now did on a certain level—I just trusted her more than he did and that she knew what love was. It almost felt like she loved me so deeply to substantially weaken me so she could have a reason to break it off—why I felt she minimized my feelings for her. When I considered her history with other men—one who “stalked” her, one she broke off her engagement to when Jackson reappeared in her life who moved to another state, and then Lance—I worried I would lose everything. When I considered who she married and stayed with for his money and all she told me so I would date her—I felt sick to my stomach. As much as these concerns wreaked havoc on my mind, it was something I wasn’t willing to accept as fact, if ever. I still considered them theories, spurned by a broken mind—what I wanted to believe was untrue because I knew what it meant for me if it wasn’t. The more Anya gave to her kids without ever saying “no”, the more I feared her love betrayed me. Through the madness brought on by her non-disclosure when we first met—I tried to be trusting, loving and understanding. All it seemed to do was give her another reason to tell me “I don’t know”—the exact opposite of what I tried to achieve. It seemed that no matter what I did, no matter how much I cared for her, no matter how much I loved her, it never mattered—her mind was made up two years ago after Lance left her.

When a new day arrived and I yet hadn’t heard from her, I sent her a text when I got home from work to see how Katie was feeling.

ME: “Just thinking of u. How is Katie feeling? Is she able to eat anything?”

ANYA: “She’s feeling a little better. I make this soup w/Maitake mushrooms, kale, and miso. It is the highest form of immune defense. My kids would rather catch swine flu before having my soup.”

ME: “Ha ha! Really? It’s miso soup just minus the tofu. I love miso soup!”

ANYA: “Not your typical miso soup though. I just discovered the power of the combination about a year ago.”

ME: “Oh, I see! Very cool! Oh well, I’m not having any miso soup tonight but I am having me some Cherry Garcia right now!”

ANYA: “Ahhhhhh I love Cherry Garcia! The bomb!”

When Anya mentioned she loved Cherry Garcia, I remembered when she told me she ate ice cream in bed while she watched movies—all she did was give me another reason to want to be with her.

ME: “How’s Andrew doing?”

ANYA: “He’s still playing city tournament but I just found out he made All Stars today. That will start at the end of June. Oh boy!”

ME: “Happy for him! Oh boy Lucky you! You might have to change your address to where those batting cages are. At least it’s starting to get warmer.”

ANYA: “Ha! Exactly! He asked me to take him to the batting cages last nite after practice. So, I did. Know what he said? “You’ve only taken me a few times mom.”

ME: “Only a few times? More like a few hundred times!”

ANYA: “You know that meant war! I told the manager on him and know what he said? “Andrew, your mom has been bringing you here since you were 5 years old siting in the cold!”

ME: “You didn’t say anything to him?”

ANYA: “Well the manager set him straight so it was sweet. Ha!”

ME: “I bet that quieted him down.”

ANYA: “Yea he didn’t say a word but “thank u.” Sweet.”

I wasn’t the most grateful kid when I was his age. Most kids who have good parents don’t realize all they do for them. I’m certain at times I acted no different than Andrew, but even at his age, I would never say my mother only took me to the cages a few times when she usually took me to the cages on a moment’s notice like Anya did. I didn’t think it was anything to get upset with Andrew about, but his response seemed to tell the tale. I also didn’t understand why Anya feared her son so much—was it because he was a preemie? Why would she let his manager communicate this to him? Why would she put a parenting opportunity into his hands? She has sat in the cold at the cages since he was five and he told her she had only taken him a few times? My mother would’ve told me “Okay, then this is the last time I ever take you” and I’d change my tune really quick. I didn’t want to criticize her for the way she raised her children—she did a great job, but this was a reason why she broke her promise to me. She should’ve told me her kids made decisions for her—even making the decision if we were together. I could’ve given her my last drop of blood and she would still never know all I did from the minute I met her.

Why was she so afraid to be a parent? Andrew told her she only took him to the cages a few times—she’s been sitting in the cold at the cages since he was five yet let’s his manager handle her” war”? Katie wanted a 24-inch Imac, and although Anya told me she told Katie “no way”, I would put my last dollar that Katie would get it—on top of the trip to Cabo. Katie wanted horses and boats—she got a horse ranch and a driver that drove her boat to wherever she wanted to go. Andrew wanted money wallpaper in his bedroom and even had enough money to invest—she made she he had it. When did her kids ever hear the word “no”? I loved her and she was a fantastic mother, but I felt she treated her parenthood as a popularity contest. That she wanted her kids to talk about how cool their mother was to the other kids at school—to be known as the cool mom and not the best parent. The worst thing about it was she neglected to tell me something very important—she needed Jackson’s money to do it, another reason why she stayed. If Anya thought Katie had a “big head”, it was because of the way she parented. She taught her being revered by others was more important than being humble—how people perceived who you are was more important than who you actually were. If Anya hadn’t allowed or encouraged me to fall in love with her; to be in the position where I could lose my career, and even my life, I wouldn’t have cared so much about this, but the way she chose to raise her children affected me. Each time she gave in to her kids and wanted to be known as the cool mom when she should have been more concerned about being the best parent—it left me to feel betrayed each time she did. What she failed to tell me the night we decided to give it a try, was that she stood to lose her popularity and the perception she was a “cool” mom if she left Jackson—things that apparently meant a lot more to her than I did.

For the last eighteen months, I’ve always respected Anya’s need to be there for her kids. I had a few emotional breakdowns that required her to be there for me, but for the most part kept them tucked away from her consciousness. In particular, for the last three weeks, at a time I missed her greatly, I again put her needs in front of my own, and respected her time with the kids. I didn’t want to distract her during Katie’s graduation so she he could be there and really enjoy the moment with her. I hoped to learn she loved me more than I knew, and Anya kept in touch and allowed me to keep in touch with her. I seemed to learn after my proposed moratorium had passed, it was Jackson’s wealth that kept her there—not for just herself but mainly for what he provided her children with. When Anya told me, Katie wanted an Imac for her graduation, I thought that was a fair grad gift, but when I remembered Anya told me the trip to Cabo was Katie’s graduation gift it hit me. Anya was there for the sake of the kids because of what Jackson’s wealth provided them—as evidenced when Andrew told his mother she had only taken him to the cages a few times—I now knew why they would hate Anya if she left. Why her son wanted his “family” for his birthday—because the money the marriage provided them. Jackson and Anya spoiled them with horses, boats and money to reward them for doing what they were told. This was a massive discovery for me about all I faced. She would never admit she knew all of this before she allowed and encouraged me to fall deeply in love with her. When Anya told me, her kids were good kids, I believed it—that remained true. Katie and Andrew were exceptional and were both well raised, but Anya and Jackson shielded them from something they couldn’t protect them against—a thing called life. She gave them everything they wanted—not to make them feel safe but to throw them off guard.

I remained patient when she didn’t want to get “into it” three weeks ago, but I now wanted to know what I texted that upset her so much. I wanted to know how she could be so much stronger emotionally than I was—if she felt the same love I did. I also wanted to know so I could work on not letting it hurt me and us—to see if that was even possible. Her “reservations” about my reactions to things she never disclosed when we first met was unfair. She failed to take any responsibility for hiding them from me and my emotional reactions only existed because she chose not to do so. If she couldn’t help it and purposely omitted this information because she wanted me in her life, then she should make a promise to be with me. If she didn’t have the courage to show her kids the truth about life after she took my heart, then how could I not feel betrayed?

I sent Anya a text to let her know how empty I felt without her the last few weeks—that it felt like I was “losing my life”. In the past, she would respond that she knew how I felt because she felt the same way. I felt her response would give me a good indication of where she stood.

ANYA: “I’m sorry. What do you mean by losing ur life?”

After I read her text, I feared the Anya I fell deeply for had all but vanished. If Anya felt pained when I questioned her love—this seemed to prove she couldn’t relate to what I felt for her. I told Anya many times how much our love meant to me—my description of how I felt shouldn’t have come at any surprise to her after all we shared and after all she ever told me. How could she ever ask me such a question knowing all we’ve been through? Anya seemed to not understand love on the level I did, and that’s fine, but she led me to believe she did and I trusted a wife who had been cheated on to know—especially one who was pregnant at the time. As her response left me nauseous, she then hit me with another text that made me feel disease stricken.

ANYA: “You know I feel responsible for taking two years of your life.”

I didn’t want her to feel responsible for that, but at the same time if she truly felt that way, then why was she fighting with me about anything? I didn’t like either of her responses because it was exactly what I feared by giving her time away from me would happen—not an excuse to spend time with the kids but to find a way to leave me stranded. Her words sounded that she made the decision to stay, to choose Jackson over me, and now planned to fall out of love with me. I found appreciation in her acknowledgement—she was responsible for that, but again she minimized heartbreak because she not only took two years, but many more than that if she stayed. She didn’t realize how long it would take me to get over her by loving me, period. I wasn’t Greg Laswell, or Lance, or Michel Buble—men who sang and wrote love songs but had no idea what love truly was because they always had other options immediately available to them. According to Anya, I may have had extraordinary qualities, but they weren’t extraordinary enough to leave a husband who cheated on her multiple times who she claimed she no longer loved. I had only one heart and one soul to give—never the divorcee, always the widower. If she planned to stay, she took my entire life with her, not just the two years she claimed to feel responsible for. If Anya had not hidden things from me about her life, all the parties, all the trips, the boats, the horse ranch, the money wallpaper, the lessons she taught her kids that money and things did lead to happiness, still sleeping with her husband—all the things that would’ve given me the chance to save myself, then I could understand her staying a lot better. For those to be hidden from me, damaged my life beyond repair. I knew heartbreak and vowed to never put myself in this position again. I would never give a married woman a chance, but I trusted her pain and all she did was inflict her pain upon me then turned me into a monster if I disagreed, not her husband. As upset as I was with her, I wanted to blame Jackson for it all—the man whose actions and inactions led her to me. I didn’t want to believe she could play me for such a fool—that she loved and respected me too much to. I felt splintered, torn and broken in every single place like the remains of a tree after a tornado’s swath. Her love put me in a hot and cold vortex that I didn’t know what to believe. How could I hurt like this and she only felt responsible for taking two years of my life if she truly loved me? This was why I questioned her love and why I had the right to—and the right to even feel betrayed. It eviscerated my manhood so much that I even felt like I had just been raped. If I couldn’t tell the one who loved me, I felt I lost my life when I lost her, then who could I ever tell such a thing to? All I knew was if she had told me “I felt like I was losing my life without you”, my love wouldn’t feel guilty—it would’ve caught her.

ME: “I have always said that you were my life and everything to me. It just feels like I’ve lost my life and sense of being. If this was a love I’ve experienced before then I’d probably not feel this way, but it’s not. You even wrote to me that you felt you lost your life before in Katie’s letter.”

ANYA: “I wrote that cuz I was ending us for good (so I thought) and that was how I felt.”

When I read “that was how I felt”, it implied she didn’t necessarily feel that way now—something she wrote me just a little over three months ago. Why was I not allowed to feel that way? Because it inconvenienced her? Is true love an inconvenience?

ME: “If you love me, and you feel the same way I do, then you should understand how I could feel like I’m losing my life. I just find it strange why you would ask me what I mean by that.”

ANYA: “Ok.”

ME: “I’m still curious to know what I said that upset you so much. I’m sure most of what I wrote did, but you told me you cried all day. Btw, I’m not holding you responsible, however I do hold one person responsible.”

ANYA: “I really don’t want to get into it right now.”

ME: “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to feel you had to tell me right at this moment. Just when you’re ready to. I understand it’s hard. I hope you’re having a good day.”

If Anya wasn’t ready to talk about it, I wouldn’t push her to. If it upset her enough to cry all day, I definitely didn’t want to bring her back there if she wasn’t ready. As much as her responses bothered me, I didn’t want to accuse her of anything. I did care that what I texted upset her so much that she cried all day about it. I guess a part of me would fight back the love I felt for that person a little bit too—so they couldn’t control me. I wanted to shift my disgust from Anya to Jackson. If I felt Anya betrayed me then I’d never be able to save her from the real monster. I loved her too much anyway to see her in any other way. I could be mad at her. Hate her but at the end of the day she was the person I associated love with—the only person I’ve ever felt it with. I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to know what I texted so I could reflect upon it then not mention it ever again. If I even had to talk to a psychiatrist about it—I would do it to avoid hurting her like that. My goal was to understand her, and never to hurt her, but the pain that splintered inside me was tough to ignore. I truly felt lifeless without her in my life—a scary thought I sought protection from. Just when I thought our textversation had concluded, Anya sent me another text.

ANYA: “It’s everything. The months of pressure when I kept asking to please stop. Months of getting upset with me. Months of feeling bad about hurting you took its toll.”

I couldn’t criticize Anya for her passive aggressive behavior because I’d be a hypocrite. How could she feel months of pressure from the person she hoped, wished and dreamed to be with? How could she feel months of pressure from the person she claimed to love as much as air? How could she not expect me to be upset with her when I felt she did something entirely inconsistent with the love she claimed to have for me? Or maybe I wasn’t listening to her but I had a simple solution for her to avoid the pressure, to avoid me from getting upset and everything else—to not do anything that hurt the man she loved. Her solution to “everything” was to obliterate my heart into pieces and let me go? At this point in our relationship, that would be the actions of someone who not only didn’t love me but who wanted me to hurt. The actions of someone who just wanted to have fun in the bedroom. The actions of someone who used another for stress relief purposes. Why couldn’t she just tell me “Landyn, I don’t love you” at this point? Why fight me on that? This wasn’t a contest of who loved each other more. I wasn’t Katie and Andrew—I didn’t need a mother’s love, I had one.

Anya first had to understand why the pressure existed in the first place and if she already knew she hurt me then I felt certain she also knew she caused the pressure. What did she expect from a man who loved her? Months of feeling bad about hurting me took such a toll, she decided to break up with me and create the greatest hurt of all? To just let her go after she again admitted, she took the last two years of my life? There was a reason why she did that—Jackson. If she wanted me to let her go then tell me “I don’t love you”—and I’ll walk. Although I questioned her love, and felt betrayed, I wasn’t going to let her take my life away until I knew for certain. I had put too much of my time, my heart and my soul into loving her and she needed to show me the respect I deserved from her. As much as this was my mindset, I had to look past my reawakened low sense of self and broken heart, to what her mind was set on—the fear she would be found out by her kids. She didn’t want to feel pressure because it exposed her as she tried to preserve her “situation”, and not give her the time to change it. The problem was she had two years to change it but instead held onto it for dear life as she made a promise to the wrong person. She felt responsible for hurting me and for taking two years of my life yet she punished me for “everything” I felt. It seemed I only hid my pain from her so she could continue to hurt me. What would her love had done if I told her I wanted to be with her and I then turned around a day later and promised my kids I’d stay with another woman? How could she ever be upset at me for questioning her love when she seemed to contradict it every day? Did she understand that she treated me even worse than when her husband cheated on her? Why did she make it seem I was the monster here? All she had to do was make a promise to be with the man she hoped, wished and dreamed to be with. Why was I the villain for holding her to things she told me? I wasn’t using her words against her—I was holding her to her words. The things she told me allowed me to drop my guard six feet into the ground. For a woman who just claimed she felt responsible for taking two years of my life, why did she make me feel I was the one who did her wrong?

ME: “Do you feel I’ve been unfair to you?”

ANYA: “No”

When she didn’t add a period at the end of her “no”, I feared my question prompted her to be emotional. How could she ever feel I was unfair to her after I put so much trust in her? I didn’t think it would make her emotional, but it was a fair question to ask. Also, Anya told me it was something in my texts that made her cry and I still wanted to know what that was.

ME: “I already knew that you made the decision to love me differently because of everything over the last few months but I was curious about what I said in my last set of texts three weeks ago, specifically, that really hurt you. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

ANYA: “It wasn’t just those few texts. It was just the final straw…”

ME: “When you say the “final straw” it sounds to me like I’ve done you wrong in some way, hence being unfair to you. The “final straw” makes it seem like I cheated on you or something, when all I’ve done is do everything you’ve ever asked me to do. I think I’m the last person who should ever receive a “final straw” verdict from you.”

ANYA: “See that’s just it. I feel like I can’t b/c you would get mad at me for what I say. So, I just shut up in the fear of upsetting you or hurting you. It’s a learned behavior.”

ME: “If you feel that way then what’s your incentive to tell me the truth about anything? You’re entitled to feel how you do, and I’m not minimizing it, but after you’ve loved me with your heart and soul, so much so, that it allowed me to want to be with you isn’t fair to me at all. It’s also hard for me to see the one I love, who I believed is a good person, sacrifice her character b/c she is with someone who makes her feel guilty about just wanting to be happy. You must have forgotten I love you.”

ANYA: “I haven’t forgotten. “Final straw” means I couldn’t listen to how much I hurt you anymore. I was responsible for your anger and hurt. Wanted it to stop.”

After I read Anya’s text, I understood better what she meant by “final straw”. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be with me—she just wanted my pain to stop so she could be. It felt like she was her way at getting back at me for making her feel bad. Did she expect me to lie? Is that what Jackson did? Lie about the way he felt? Well, I knew how that ended up all. I did see her point—who would want to be with someone who made them feel shitty about themselves? I had to take responsibility for the last time she visited and all I accused her of after she made the identity of her “house guest” known. Although there were some negative feelings that lingered, I had to put the blame on myself and try harder to not let the things she did hurt me. Otherwise, how else could we go on? I didn’t want to continue this as much as Anya did if nothing changed. This only made me despise Jackson even more. I didn’t want to go to war with the person I love—it would be what Jackson wanted. The reason why he let this go on—he knew one of us would eventually break. My anger resided in what Anya purposely hid from me about her marriage when we first met—the same things that drove Lance to leave her. How could she think any single or unmarried person, would be fine with only a piece of her with all the hecticness that consumed her life? How could she think anyone would want to fall in love with someone they couldn’t have? What made her think someone would want to fall in love with someone they would have to share with another man? Those simple questions she had five months in between the time we first met, before she told me “I broke her heart”, she never respected my heart enough to consider? She knew she had kids the night she approached me at Sonomas so did she make me aware of the sacrifice mothers made only after I fell deeply in love with her? If she made me a promise—I could understand this better, but without it I felt she only loved me to betray me. To set me up for the pain only her husband deserved, and that alone was maddening. Only married people were okay with this kind of relationship not working out because they still had something to fall back on. It even felt like Jackson never wronged her a day in his life and she penalized me for his infidelities as if I were the one who dishonored her. This feeling of possible betrayal I felt was powerful enough for me to confront Jackson about it. Even though I felt better after Anya explained the meaning behind “final straw”, I had to pay attention to the terms of her endearment.

Later that evening, I texted Anya to see if Katie got the graduation gift she wanted.

ANYA: “Yes. They both got the 24” Imacs. Macs r really cool! You should go check them out for the heck of it. Really mind blowing.”

ME: “I think they both deserved them. It’s a good investment into their futures. I’ll have to check them out.”

ANYA: “Yes. I know I’m weak.”

I felt the computers would help them in school and were important for them to have in today’s day and age. It’s one of those things I thought she should have said “yes” to—even with the “24” inch screen. I also thought it was really cool that Andrew got one as well—it made it seem Cabo was Katie’s graduation gift. Anya tried to compensate for their troubled minds in the marriage with things that took their minds off of it. Although it didn’t bode well for my heart, I couldn’t blame her for it. I wanted her kids to adore her, but at the same time I didn’t want Anya to defraud them—to paint a blue-sky picture when there was a lot of gray in it. It only bothered me for one reason, and one reason only—Anya should have told me about what I faced—that her kids got everything they wanted and without Jackson it wouldn’t be possible. She wanted me to understand what she faced yet never gave me the chance to understand what I faced—that was the only unfairness that existed between us. It was also the reason the kids loved and adored Jackson—he had the money to always get them everything they wanted. When Katie wanted a horse—she got a horse ranch at a time she didn’t even know what a horse was. It sure would’ve been nice to know that’s what I faced. That Jackson could’ve dishonored her every single day of his life, but as long as he gave Katie and Andrew the things they needed and wanted—love never mattered to Anya. She didn’t need it at all—I was the one who did, and I gave it to someone who was married nonetheless and still didn’t know what love was. Anya may have loved me, but she completely misled me about who she really was. She allowed me to fall in love with a figment of her imaginary self. How else could I explain why she felt so responsible that she now planned to leave me with enough deep feelings and emotions to destroy me—an act of betrayal on a level I could’ve never believed possible. Anya’s love led me to appreciate Denise’s brutal honesty—I respected her now for never telling me she loved me and when she ran off with another man. At least she never allowed or encouraged me to fall in love her so when she left, as much as it hurt me, I had no grounds to fight for her. I hated to feel this way but the woman who loved me better and more than anyone else in my life was the one who hurt and betrayed me the most—the most gut-wrenching paradox ever. I held Anya to a much higher standard, and for her to do this to me, to learn after I fell in love with her that she wasn’t ambivalent to her marriage, was more than willing to accept it, and not the broken hearted victim she led me to believe the night we reconnected, my feelings were similar to those a rape victim felt. I could see why some rape victims never come forward—they feel ashamed because how ridiculous would that sound from a man’s perspective? I never agreed to this though. I never agreed to pursue a relationship with her after all she decided to hide from me if she planned to never make a promise to leave, or worse yet, needing the permission of her children. More than anything, I didn’t want to be right about the way I felt—my life would end, but I struggled to feel differently until she proved me wrong.

I felt all over the place—pulled into a vortex of sadness, anger, and fear. I didn’t even know how to feel anymore—a part of me suspended in belief and disbelief. She tried to sell me on her love but I couldn’t feel it anymore, I could only read it electronically. It felt as if this was all by design to give her a valid reason to leave me. Her love infected me badly and the only cure was more infection. The only thing that kept our love alive seemed to be the love I had for her—a heart that believed she could never do this to the man who didn’t bring her into this relationship. My mind told me the opposite—that this woman was not only fully capable of betraying me but also of conspiring against me. It’s what fueled the anger inside me not because I couldn’t accept one’s disposition for me, but because I walked away from this. It was my compassion that gave us our love. I felt bamboozled to believe that she only felt compassion for me because she felt guilty. After taking two years of my life, I wasn’t understanding nor compassionate of her guilt—she knew from day one all I learned eighteen months later. She made the decision to hide those things from me. Her power move born out of her husband’s lust for power is what burned me inside—as if she had the right to my feelings. She told me I broke her heart and I trusted her words everyday for the last eighteen months, and trusted she would never break mine in return. When the possibility existed, she did just that, it brought out an anguish in me I thought only the insane could feel. I didn’t know what to think or what to do. Her words, her mixed feelings and inconsistencies made it hard for me to feel the compassion for her I wanted desperately to feel because I knew it was the only thing that could save our love. So I did the only thing I could do—hold on for dear life and hope the Anya I trusted in would show me the compassion we both needed. The one that understood why I could feel this way and stop the behavior that contributed to it—to end the lies, to reward the people who believed love wasn’t irrational or unrealistic, and make the promise we both deserved

The next day when I arrived at the office, I was again asked to drive out to Hesperia for one more day to wrap up the engagement partner’s review comments that required additional audit testwork. I usually smiled with all assignments given to me, but I found it hard to as my life unraveled before me. Not only was I stressed out as badly as I had been during busy season, but Anya seemed to blame me for the turmoil in her life. I trusted in her unhappiness so much that I was now in a situation where I could only be harmed, and it was hard to feel the love and compassion in that at all. I also struggled with after all we shared, she relegated me to “friend” status because I broke down emotionally. Yes, I made a mistake and she had the right to pull back a bit but she had to know better—she had to know better. How could we ever just be friends after all we’ve shared? I’d always want more and could never understand that arrangement after I walked away before we reconnected five months later. When I hadn’t heard from her for my entire workday, combined with my unexpected trip to Hesperia, I burned inside burdened by an unhappiness all my own—all because I cared more about the happiness of someone else.

As my day in Hesperia came to a close and I headed back on the long and lonely drive home, I noticed the red light on my phone come alive. When traffic came to a halt, I picked up my phone to see a text from Anya.

ANYA: “How r u?”

It took me over an hour to gather the strength to not respond with a “do you really care?”. I even contemplated not texting her back until she fell asleep, but when I got home I had a change of heart.

ME: “I’m ok. I had to drive out to Hesperia today but it’s my last time. I’m home now. No more Hesperia. How r u?”

ANYA: “Oh great! You’re done! Welcome home! I’m ok. Have a house full of loud boys.”

I always underestimated the power of an Anya text—it quieted the thundering tornado in my head. Just a little over an hour ago, I was really upset with her, but now it was if I didn’t have one negative thought. This was why I had to sit on things before I responded—it allowed me time to come to my senses. At times, the stress of work exacerbated how I felt about our relationship. Anya was my Vicodin, my bed, the sun on a day off in the summer, my vacation and sick days, and the air I breathed. Without her, I could find no joy on earth. I didn’t have kids nor did I have the money to do things to take my mind off the pain. Anya had the tools at her disposal to recover from heartbreak that I didn’t and I didn’t feel that was fair after she led me to believe she was unhappy, even miserable after I broke her heart. She couldn’t go around in life telling men nothing was impossible then turn around the next few months and tell them mothers make sacrifices for their kids. How could she call herself a trustworthy person if she reserved the right to change her mind without a care or consideration for anyone but herself? I didn’t like that part of Anya—a side that said “fuck everyone outside of my family, it’s all about me”. Again, I jumped back and forth from being extremely upset with her to loving her to death—I lost my mind almost constantly if I allowed one negative thought to enter like a wrecking ball. Her mere presence, even just through a text, had an enormous effect on me at times that maybe she understood how I could feel and react the way I do and did. Her text showed me she still cared and it changed my mood and outlook substantially. On a day of barren hopelessness, it filled me with life again.

ME: “The Controller thanked me for helping him out with an issue he was having with his accounting software although I didn’t go out there for that! What r u up to?”

ANYA: “Good job! You’re the best! You should be proud! Just leaving the house to run errands. I put Katie in charge but the boys are taller than her. Hope they listen!”

ME: “Thanks! Ok! Oh, they better!”

On a Friday night, it seemed rather strange that Anya went out to run “errands”. It just seemed really bizarre to me, and even more strange she left her daughter to watch the boys at the house. I didn’t know if Katie was at the age where she could watch the house, but she definitely had the maturity to handle such a task. As Anya ran out on an “errand”, it brought me back to the time when Jackson hawked her and she had to see me. Now, that option never seemed to be on her radar anymore. When I found this to be bizarre, I then focused on what she texted me the other day.

“See that’s just it. I feel like I can’t b/c you would get mad at me for what I say. So, I just shut up in the fear of upsetting you or hurting you. It’s a learned behavior.”

When I went back to my phone to read this text—I couldn’t get it off my mind. Instead of stopping the behavior that would upset or hurt the man she claimed to love—she blamed him for the learned behavior when he called her out on it. It brought me right back to the article I read and the advice given to me as its reader—they will eventually blame you for the turmoil in their life. It made me sick to my stomach to think she would lie to me to serve herself. I tried to see the love in it. That she didn’t want to lose me if she told me and I hung onto that feeling and tried to go to bed on it. While on my quest for peace of mind, I began to toss and turn when I realized there was something unique about the nineteenth day of June. I then jumped out of bed and decided to get on my computer to visit a Jewish church’s website. In their monthly periodical, it mentioned wedding anniversaries of some of the couples who belonged to the church. It was then I came across the only couple who celebrated a wedding anniversary on the twentieth day of June—Jackson and Anya Caiaphas, their sixteenth wedding anniversary.

Luckily I had two Vicodin left and threw them both down as I felt nailed down to my bed, unable to move. I tried to not let her Friday night “errand” bother me, but I began to notice a pattern—that she showed her love more to me at times she hurt me. Although I knew it wasn’t intentional, and in a way it was something she had to go along with, she couldn’t tell that to a heart that bled for her. When Anya stayed in her marriage, in my heart and mind, she stayed for glasses to be raised to her and Jackson every year. It made me to feel beyond all madness that she would allow anyone, a single person, to recognize their marriage after all she ever allowed and encouraged me to feel for her. She could do things for her kids, but it’s the things she did for her marriage that drove me over the edge. Her love is what allowed me to breathe, and without her love, how could I possibly breathe again? I believed in true love my entire existence even when it proved to be as real for me as a unicorn, and for this to not be it, after all I felt with the one who personified true love for me—I’d never love, trust, or open up to another living soul the same way again. I’d rather live and be buried alone than to not have this kind of love. If Anya broke my heart, and she stayed with the man who dishonored her, I could never believe in love again. Unlike the Great Gatsby, who couldn’t get past Daisy loving Tom before he came back into her life, I could deal with that because it would be too much to ask. If Anya stayed at this point though, she chose Jackson too along with her kids.

As I laid in my bed like I was trapped in a car’s wreckage, surrounded by her perfume bottles, her cards, the CD’s she burned for me and even her bra, things she wanted me to have, it dawned on me why she did so. Why she got me things to remind me of her kindness—for those times she knew she would and had to be unkind. The entire time, I thought they were given to me because she planned to be with me—she wanted to make sure no other girl took her place. I was beginning to see and learn I couldn’t have been more wrong. The greatest irony of it all, she told me she didn’t know, but at this point she had to have always known she would break my heart since the decision would be up to how her children felt about it.

At ten minutes to ten, as the Vicodin began to kick in to save me from my journey into a circle of hell, the red light on my cell phones began to speak.

ANYA: “U never leave my mind.”

I had to say her text to me was one of the most, if not the most unexpected one I ever received from her. It then brought me back to her texts last year, when she did the same thing, on the weekend of her fifteenth wedding anniversary.

ME: “U never leave my mind too. I miss you.”

ANYA: “I miss u too.”

Her text made me feel connected to her as it breathed new life into me. There also seemed to be a certain sense of sadness within it—consistent with being at a place she didn’t necessarily care to be, but found it necessary to be there. I couldn’t ignore the sense her sweet texts had an entirely different meaning behind them now. In the past, when she sent me a text like “You never leave my mind ”, it echoed the same sentiments I did, but now they came with a disclaimer—that this was an admission of guilt more than love; that this had nothing to do with missing me but rather to do with hurting me. I always believed a text such as this meant that she wanted to be with me, now it seemed to be sent only because she was worried about me. These competing thoughts were now the norm and I struggled to find an epiphany that would render the negative obsolete. I then asked myself one simple question—did she have to text me at all? When my answer to that question was “no”—I found more love in her words than guilt.

I wanted to build on the good feelings her text left me to feel. I imagined her surrounded by friends, neighbors, politicians, and family were all guests at an anniversary party Jackson never told her about. I imagined she played along as a huge part of her died inside and pulled her away from the party to find time to be with the one who made her honest—the one who truly loved and honored her. As much as I loved Anya and as much as the things she did that hurt me, she deserved to celebrate her anniversary party with a man she loved—not with a man who abused and dishonored her. Even if it meant I never got a chance to meet her—I always wished he had never cheated on her and that she had the kind of love she deserved even with him. That was the saddest thing to me, more than the loneliness and pain I felt by her wedding anniversary, was the fact a mother with two kids she had with him didn’t have that.

The fact remained, the next day, was the twentieth of June, the actual day of their wedding anniversary—not the night when it appeared to be celebrated. After all we shared over the last year, I didn’t understand how she could look Jackson in the eye at this point, let alone accept any of this. If I were truly crazy, I would’ve found out where the party was and showed up to rescue her from it. If she truly loved me, I had grounds, but it would’ve been wrong without a promise and disrespectful to her kids. To make matters worse, her anniversary fell on a Saturday, the night of the week I usually struggled with the most. If her anniversary had fallen on a Wednesday, it would have taken less of a mental toll on me. The fact it fell on a Saturday gave it the opportunity to be celebrated as an entire weekend event. After all we have shared, after all the love I was told she felt for me, after all her hopes, wishes and dreams, and after all she told me about the man that led me here—I couldn’t believe she could allow anyone to raise a single glass to her marriage. More than ever, I despised Jackson as I was certain he planned a party whose only design was to tear my soul to shreds. And he knew she would go along with it because she never gave him anything to question anymore. He put my entire life in play, for all the love he purposely failed to show and give to her, and I didn’t appreciate it.

When the dawn of her wedding anniversary showed through the blinds of my bedroom window, I threw the bed covers over my head—distraught and disheartened by the pain this day would bring me. Without a Vicodin to soothe the anguish, I thought my best chance to get through it was to hear how it made her feel directly from her. I couldn’t afford to let my imagination run wild, because if it did, I would lose all I ever hoped for. It made it tougher to fight off my negative emotions when I considered a bigger reason behind why Anya texted me the prior evening—to plant those words in my mind to prep me for when she went incognito on Saturday evening and possibly into Sunday. I didn’t want her politics anymore and I couldn’t handle the details—all I wanted was the truth and if she wasn’t brave enough to give it to me, it would only then lead me to seek it out for myself.

When I didn’t hear from her by four that Saturday afternoon, I feared I wouldn’t hear from her at all. I then decided to reach out to her—to see if she would be honest with me about it.

ANYA: “How r u?”

ME: “I’m ok. Getting some errands done. How r u?”

After I sent this text to Anya, I didn’t hear back from her until two hours later.

ANYA: “Good for u! I’m ok too.”

After I read her text, I considered the time was a little after six now and it seemed she was getting ready for something. Since she didn’t know that I knew when her wedding anniversary was, I didn’t want to make it a “a-ha” kind of thing. I wanted her to tell me in the same truthful way she did when I asked her if she still slept with her husband. The best way was to go around what I knew and give her a chance to tell me. Anya boasted she always told me the truth and has always been nothing but honest with me. She has been honest the times I’ve asked and I had no reason to believe her trend of being honest when asked wouldn’t continue.

ME: “Do you have any plans this evening?”

ANYA: “Niece’s birthday party.”

I believed Anya completely that she planned to go to her niece’s birthday party. The problem was I had known Anya for two years and had seen her attend more than one party in a single day before. Her niece’s birthday party didn’t preclude her ability to attend another party that same night. Her niece was a year old and the time of the party would be more appropriate for an adult and not a one-year-old child. Her answer to my question was also very straight-forward, even a little hostile and protective—she knew I was onto something. I then decided to take my question another step further.

ME: “Is there something else being celebrated this weekend? Please be honest with me.”

ANYA: “What? Um no.”

Her “what” response reminded me of the time I asked her to give me a promise to be with me—as if I was crazy to ask such a thing from the person who claimed to hope, wish and dream she was with me. When she followed it with an “um, no”, after I knew it was her wedding anniversary date, it crushed me inside. She wanted me to let her go on her terms—but never on my terms. Why not tell me that this weekend was her wedding anniversary but she refuses to celebrate it for obvious reasons? Why come at me with a “what” to a question I felt was done right and even asked her to please be honest with me about it. If she wanted me to leave her then why not tell me something that would rip my heart out and force me to walk away? Why couldn’t she just simply respond “No, just my niece’s birthday party. What else did you think was being celebrated?” Her response only stoked the fire that boiled the water that made my imagination run torturously free. I gave her an opportunity to be honest with me, to not sell me on romantic feelings, but the truth. If she felt the need to hide what was celebrated from me then it had to be my worst fear realized. That this weekend carried significance like the three days did in Tenerife she also had to have known of. Who would respond to a text message “what” if she were honest? That’s the kind of response you give to someone over the phone because it’s not concise, clear or could be heard well. My question was concise, clear and could not be mistaken, and her “what” response was the realization of my worst fear.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

When I didn’t hear back from Anya at all, it seemed she ran away to hide from her lie. It also seemed like she held the right to lie about this to me—as if it were none of my business. I would agree, however the last two years she led me to believe she didn’t love her husband and she loved me. The worst part about it was that it confirmed what I feared—that her “U never leave my mind” text was sent for political purposes—to throw me off the scent of her wedding anniversary dinner or whatever it was, with Jackson. I felt I kindly asked her two questions and the responses I received were not anywhere in line with the manner the questions were presented to her. I figured I would text her again to smooth things out and to see where she truly was. I figured if she was at her niece’s birthday party, she could get away for a second to text me back. If she was with Jackson, there was no way she could.

ME: “I’m sorry if what I asked upset you. Could you text me back to let me know you’re not mad at me so I can go to bed? Thank you.”

Anya told me just the other night that I never left her mind. Days earlier she told me she felt responsible for taking two years of my life. She then followed that up with that she felt bad after months of hurting me. I was starting to learn that I never left her mind because of all the things she did that would hurt me if I knew, and not because she needed me the way I needed her. This all came from the same woman who would get mad at me when I questioned her love. The same woman who told me she hoped, wished and dreamt we would be together. The same woman who wanted to wear my ring and even dreamt of our wedding. The same woman who told me she would rather die than never have me in her life. The same woman who visited my apartment nearly fifty times. The same woman who told me nothing was impossible and divorces happen every day. When that same woman never responded to my texts when she knew what my heart was going through and how it would make me feel if she ever celebrated a wedding anniversary with the man she led me to believe she didn’t love and had chipped away her feelings for him—I had reached my final straw.

I couldn’t believe the woman who loved me was out on a Saturday night, having a wedding anniversary dinner with a man she told me horrific things about. After I walked away eighteen months earlier to avoid the heart wrenching feeling I felt now. While I trusted this woman’s cries when she told me I broke her heart, I now found myself in the darkest of all despairs—bound to my bed like a hospice on a Saturday evening with a mind she allowed to run recklessly. As I laid down, distraught and tormented, Anya was out in celebration of her unholy matrimony—all at the expense of my heart. While she showed off her marriage to others as a beautiful sacred union, the heart that believed in her hopes, wishes and dreams now beat slowly and ever so closely to its finality. I had to be honest with myself about how I felt—it made me sick to think glasses were being raised to a marriage that hurt my life. I had no idea the day I made the decision to mend Anya’s heart that she could be as cruel as the man she told me horrific things about—things that led me here. When she decided to honor her marriage to Jackson, after sixteen years of wedded dishonor, and decided it best to dishonor me, it left me to feel betrayed by her. How could she love me so deeply only to leave me to feel this way? If she loved me, how could her only remedy to stop me from hurting would be to break my heart? Did she really think she put herself out there as much as I did? She was able to brace for the fall because she controlled the soft landing spot. It seemed she only referred to me as her “best friend” so I’d feel guilty about her betrayal—another political ruse. Make him feel like my confidant so when I break his heart, he’ll believe he broke mine. What I felt was so horrific, I couldn’t believe it was real. I felt I had been put to death for a crime I didn’t commit. I thought she truly loved me, and always held on to that belief even in disbelief. Now, the woman who loved me so strongly suddenly switched her allegiance and became weak, and left me begging for air for wanting a dishonest person to be an honest one. I came to her rescue while she drowned in the shark infested waters of a sea of betrayal, and when I brought her ashore safely, she pushed me in and now left me for dead.

I blamed Jackson for her sickness though and I wanted him to feel what she did. I wanted to turn the tables on him. I wanted him to know what it was like to be broken hearted. Anya and I both didn’t deserve this, but I knew he did. When she decided not to text me back that evening and to immerse herself in a lie without a single regard for how I felt, it only caused my mind to drift away from everything we shared. My feelings and emotions may have not meant much to Anya, but they held value to me. My heart wasn’t something I just gave anybody, after all I’ve gone through with other women—it came with an enormous amount of trust in all she told me from the beginning—all the trust in the world she knew what love was after being cheated on many times in her marriage. I wanted the truth whether it hurt me or not, and never expected her to ever play the “kid” card—not after she had five months to consider them before we reconnected. It seemed she still loved Jackson and refused to be honest about it. All she had to do was give me the word and I’d be gone forever, but her preference of silence put me in the position to go another route—one I never wanted nor thought she would ever put me in a position to consider, let alone, take. She loved me to ruin, then left me under the rubble. I was entitled to know the answer to the questions my heart had for her—after it felt like she hijacked it from me with all she neglected to tell me about so I’d mend a heart left me to believe I broke.

The next day was Father’s Day, but after a night of complete and total despair, the day meant something entirely different to me—my declaration day. The day I laid it all on the line with Anya—I refused to ever go through the torment her marriage put me through ever again. She had no right to celebrate her marriage to the man whose infidelities she made known to me so she could use me for love—I just wasn’t the kind of man she could use and discard me at her convenience. She told me just the other day that after months of pressure that it was the “final straw” for her. If she could pull the final straw for me, then I could also do the same. After a soul deadening restless night I spent in bed because she celebrated a marriage that did nothing but cause good people pain—I no longer had anything to lose. On a night I didn’t sleep a wink, I began to text Anya at six in the morning determined to salvage what I had left of a life that no longer existed.

ME: “Morning. Sorry if I upset you with what I texted last night. I have to say it’s pretty ridiculous when you tell me you don’t tell me things b/c you’re afraid it will hurt and upset me. Now when I ask you even legitimate questions, I may have you get mad at me for asking them? Like I have no right to? It’s only natural to ask these things b/c it’s a learned behavior now.”

ME: “You can’t be mad at me for asking you questions. That’s not fair. Am I not being fair to you by asking them? Idk. I’m trying to be fair here. Just let me know so I could understand how you see it.”

ME: “You know Anya, I’m in love with you and it’s not right you ignore me. I would never in a million years ignore a text from you. You tell me you don’t want to hurt me yet you ignore me?”

ME: “Your silence has led me to believe you’re hiding something from me that I need to know. For a year and a half, I have respected your situation out of respect for you, hoping you’ll find the strength to end your marriage. Taking my heart should be just as hard as it is to leave. You told me you “couldn’t help it” but now there are things I can’t help. I need to find out if I was loved for just a feeling, to fill a void in your marriage, and if you had any real plans to be with me. I hope you don’t hate me and I don’t want to hurt anyone but I feel now there are some things I need to know whether it crushes me or not, and since it seems like I’ve already lost you and you’re not being honest with me, then I guess you’ve given me nothing to lose.”

After I sent these texts to her, I hoped she would answer them with a show of love—enough to believe in. I preferred not to confront Jackson, but I needed to understand this pain she gave me no real explanation for. I understood the façade of her marriage had to exist at certain times, but when it appeared to be celebrated that put me over the edge. If she planned to let me go then she needed to tell me the truth why so I could move on knowing I wasn’t the one to blame—if she betrayed me, I would have no choice but to never look back. Lance disappeared into that good night, but he did with answers I never received. I truly loved Anya and I didn’t fear the things Lance did. I definitely didn’t fear Jackson like he did because I carried a weapon all his money could never defeat—the truth. I also needed to know if the woman who loved me had my back—or if she would pick up a weapon and use it against me. I needed to know how real her love was, because my pain was more real than anything.

When Anya returned my text, I realized there would be no turning back on this day for me, as I prepared to make sense of what she proclaimed to be love.

ANYA: “Do what you have to do Landyn. I hope you can live with yourself. You just ended us for good. Just want you to know I will still be buried in Abalone Cove. Have a nice life.”

Her passive-aggressive response suggested there was something I would learn that would end us for good. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I ended a friendship or a relationship. Her reply only seemed to confirm all I feared and why I needed to confront Jackson. To read “have a nice life” from someone who claimed she felt responsible for taking it from me, made me feel even more betrayed. Before I could respond though, she did what she should’ve been able to do the prior evening—she texted me again.

ANYA: “Please don’t text me back and say you didn’t mean it, you’re sorry, and that you couldn’t hurt anyone. You really hurt me. I wish you well. Your mom will be in my prayers.”

Anya celebrated her marriage last night as if I didn’t exist in her life yet I was the one who hurt her. I kindly asked her for honesty, instead I got ignored. I didn’t have any plans to stop the fun she planned at my heart’s expense—all I wanted was a response back so I could fall asleep and not send her the texts I did on this morning. Even after how horrific she left me to feel, I read her texts again, and felt like I wronged her. Just hearing back from her usually softened my stance—even made me forget how she betrayed me. I then asked her one simple question to see if I could avoid our discussion from getting worse.

ME: “How come you didn’t text me back last night?”

I waited for five minutes. Then ten minutes. Ten turned into twenty and twenty turned into thirty. When thirty turned into an hour, I truly knew I had nothing to lose.

ME: “I would just tell your husband everything. I know who he is. His name is Jackson Caiaphas, and you have no one to blame but yourself for withholding who he was from me. Proof you didn’t tell me everything in the beginning I needed to know—things even Lance knew. You hid him from me because you didn’t want me to run like he did. Now I understand why he broke your heart. It would have helped me avoid all this pain I feel now. You’ve left me no choice but to find out why you allowed me into your life when you knew mothers made sacrifices when they marry rich men—for the sake of their kids. Please tell your kids the truth about me Anya. Please let them know why I’m in your life—because I love their mother.”

ME: “Just in case you try to play the religious card with me, if there is a God, I’m certain he brought me here, a man who never settled for anything less than true love, because false vows were made in his name. He brought me here because you married a man who has no respect for marriages other than his own. I’m certain God wants to see two people in love together, and not two people who think love is irrational and unrealistic. I can live with myself knowing that, but I don’t know if you can. I don’t know much about God, but I know if he stands for love, he would be in support of us over a marriage you both lied to him about. I just hope you can live with yourself for hurting your kids’ lives by staying all because their father is a goose who lays golden eggs.”

ME: “You put me in this position—all I’m doing now is playing the card you dealt me. If you cared so much about the family façade, you should’ve never encouraged and allowed me to feel so much for you. I could have lived just fine without knowing what this love feels like if all it would lead me to was heartache. I told you from day one that I didn’t want to fill a void in your life—you knew that from day one. All I’ve ever wanted was to be your hero and be with the one I loved. The one who claimed to love me too. The one who told me it was her hope, wish and dream. The one who told me she wanted to wear my ring and could see us with a child.”

ME: “You should’ve also told me about the popularity contest that goes on in your neighborhood before you met me and about all the friends his money has bought you over the years. That your love would leave me paralyzed at home missing you on the same nights you partied them away. I don’t even want to imagine what happens when you come home drunk. I deserved to know in advance no matter what I did for you, you would still celebrate your wedding anniversary as if your marriage is a blessed sacred union—like you were never cheated on. That was beyond disrespectful to me and I will never understand what made you feel you had the right to do that after all we’ve shared. After you claimed to love me and even got upset with me for questioning your love. You wonder why I question your love? This is a reason why. No one has ever hurt me as badly as you did by ignoring me and letting my mind wonder last night.”

ME: “Your excuses for still being there, after you allowed and encouraged me to fall in love with you, all exist in the bank accounts your husband’s money resides in, and now I have to suffer. Well, I won’t.”

ME: “This weekend was the final straw for me. Thanks for showing me love doesn’t exist. I will never fall in love again. Ever!!”

I believed I caught Anya in an act of dishonesty, something I never dreamed possible even after I asked her to please be honest. For her to choose dishonesty, she must’ve really believed I had a right to be furious over such a thing if I knew. I could be hurt by the truth, but never upset about it—it’s only the lie that could anger me. I felt betrayed beyond her act of dishonesty though. How could she love me at such depth and then expect me to be flippant if she stayed with Jackson? Especially when she knew the only reason I chose to be in her life was because of all the horrible things she told me about him. It scared me to think she could do that to me. Did she do this to everyone to get them to have sex with her? Did she assume because she met me in a bar that I only wanted sex? That when I talked of love, she thought I was full of shit? Was her love for me ever real? I was that lost by her silence the prior evening. She didn’t just take two years of my life away—she stole them. I didn’t want her sympathy or her ashes—I wanted her. Lance may have not held her accountable but I planned to. She couldn’t go around telling men, who spoke of love, that her husband cheated on her to get what she wanted from them. If Anya had been honest with me about her love from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on. But, if she also had to go through these lengths just to feel love, there was no way I could allow her to live a life of deception as other well-intentioned men who genuinely cared about her happiness, apparently needlessly, suffered like I did.

ANYA: “I was at my niece’s Bday. I helped out all night.”

ME: “I’ve known you for two years now and I know that would’ve never stopped you from texting me. You could have text me to at least tell me you weren’t mad. No or yes. Just a two second text. You were short in your other texts to me anyway.”

ME: “When you love someone there is no end—nothing matters. Love catches the ones who fall—it never lets them go especially when someone is hurting. Please save your ashes. I only wanted you, not your condolences. The man you celebrated last night deserves your ashes—if you can recall, he’s the one who dishonored you.”

ME: “You live a life of entitlement—one I can’t even begin to understand. The one thing you were never entitled to was my feelings—unless you were willing to be with me. Even regardless of a sacrifice you knew mothers made the very first night you approached me at Sonomas. Sorry I feel the way I do, but I don’t want this happening to any other decent man who gives their heart to you because they trusted in your pain and sadness.”

ME: “Your husband uses your kids as weapons against you. That makes me even more upset about this.”

ME: “Ok, I’m shutting up now. I got to stop. Believe me I hate to do this to you but you’ve given me a death sentence by loving me like that and making promises to your kids as if we never shared a thing.”

I felt separated from my body—I hated to tell her these things and not believe what she told me, but she wrecked me emotionally. My hands trembled with every text I sent and I literally felt sick to my stomach. I thought I would feel better after I sent her these texts but it only made me feel worse. I knew I risked everything with each text I sent, even my entire life, but the pain overwhelmed me. The problem was is that I sent her these texts as if I wasn’t in love with her. I failed to recognize I loved her even when I believed she betrayed me—and I didn’t even have proof of that. We were together for eighteen months, and her situation was the only reason why I struggled. I thought if I fought for her, I would be rewarded, not punished. If she believed for a second what I told her brought me any joy or vindication, she couldn’t be more wrong. This hurt me a lot more than it did her. I couldn’t stomach the thought of her being with Jackson—the man who led me to this pain. Why did I have to feel any of the pain for things that I never did to her? This pain and suffering should only be reserved for the man who wronged her, not for the man whose lone intent was to love her—to save her from further pain.

ANYA: “Why are you doing this to us? Do you truly believe I’m ok and you’re not? Do you truly believed I messed with you?”

ME: “If you weren’t ambivalent to your marriage and you were willing to live with it, I can’t help but feel you messed with me. My goal wasn’t to make you ambivalent to your marriage if you were willing to live with it. That tells me I never would have the chance you led me to believe I did from the onset, and you had no real plans of ever leaving even if you loved me.”

ME: “How could you ever love me, so much so you called me your soulmate, and then tell me it would hurt your kids if we were together? Why put me in that position? I’m here because you wanted me here, and you never allowed me to feel any fear in my decision until after I fell deeply in love with you. Well, now I’m here.”

ANYA: “If you decided you’re going to do what you’re going to do, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry you want to end us forever and you want to hurt me like that.”

ANYA: “I would never in a billion years think to even hurt you on purpose like that. I am so confused. I know you’re really a noble person and that you’re really not like that.”

ANYA: “If you must do it then it’s out of my control. I know that he will go after you. That’s not a threat. Just know him, that’s all. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I couldn’t believe what I read—he would come after me? If it wasn’t meant to be a threat, it sure sounded like one. It even sounded as if she believed Jackson would be justified to come after me. How could she love me yet not be by my side? How did she know he would come after me? Even worse, how could she marry, let alone sleep in the same bed, with someone like that? She didn’t want anything to happen to me yet she would take his side? The side of the man who dishonored her over the one she betrayed? He would actually want to fight me? He could ruin other people’s marriages, but his marriage was off limits? She seemed to forget all she ever told me about the man. He cheated on her several times—while she was pregnant—caused her so much grief she gave birth to her son prematurely. Andrew nearly died at birth because of his libido yet she felt I wasn’t justified to be her hero? Her words didn’t jump off my phone screen as she loved her husband but she sure still seemed to care about him more than she did me. The fact was, there should be nothing I could do that would end our love if she truly loved me. The only way our love would end was if she had already ended it without letting me know about it—all because I desperately wanted to be with the one, I loved. The only one who deserved promises form her. She lied to her kids so much, her son altered his birthday wish because he knew otherwise.

Her words seemed to point out that he would come at me physically if I confronted him. I thought we would have it out, but nothing that would come to blows—he was a client. I also respected his kids too much and I wanted to get along with him for their sake. It didn’t seem like she was in love with him, but she must have still carried him in her heart. It didn’t mean she didn’t have feelings for me, but they didn’t seem to matter enough to be the love I felt for her. Jackson knew who I was. He knew Anya and I had a relationship yet had done nothing to stop it. What was he waiting for? For me to fall apart like this? Had she already conspired with him against me? Did they have an agreement and plan of action already in place? Did Lance ever have to hear the same thing I just did? Contrary to her belief, she had control over this—she could’ve been honest and told Jackson she loved me and wanted to be with me. Did she only love and want to be with me as long as it remained a secret? Did she just tell me these things so I’d never think about facing him? Something that happened in some form already at the symposium? How would Jackson knowing the truth end us forever? What could possibly stop her if she wanted to be with the man she loved? I knew the answer to that question—nothing would. Not his money, not her kids, if she loved me, she would have made it happen by now. For thirty-six years I waited for true love and for the last eighteen months Anya allowed and encouraged me to believe that’s what she felt for me, but now I learned the exact opposite of all she ever told me. Like the politician her husband was, she baited me then switched on me, threw words like “best friend” and “forever” at me like they meant something to her. I seemed to learn on this day, they were meaningless—all of them served only one purpose—her own. If Anya still loved him, in any way, I had the right to know. She talked of him as if I were a business contact, not her lover. She used his infidelities to reel me into a situation that left me so emotionally dependent on her, I could now only be harmed. I had the right to know why she never left and lied to me about how she truly felt about the infidelities. Why once it was time to put her money where her “I love you forever” words were, why she ran away. I also believed she told me this to deter me from reaching out to him, and gambled that I loved her too much to lose her by doing such a thing. The thing she had to know was I didn’t want to reach out to him to begin with—but I needed answers she wasn’t giving me. I wanted her to be honest with him, but when she refused to and celebrated her marriage instead, I had never felt more betrayed. Even though I didn’t want to reach out to Jackson, I also wanted her to know I wouldn’t be intimidated by him or anyone. That her text about him coming after me only upset me even more—I was the one who was ultimately punished for his infidelities.

ME: “I told you I was willing to die for this love. I fear nothing and no one—I’ll even leave him my address.”

ME: “If that’s the kind of man you’re with then I definitely want to do this. I’ll let Andrew have his family on the 4th before I reach out to him though.”

As much as her text about Jackson coming after me really ticked me off, once I thought of Andrew’s birthday wish, I didn’t have the heart to follow through with it. I just wanted Anya to know that if she thought I was intimidated by Jackson, she was wrong—the reason I texted her what I did.

ANYA: “As much as you don’t think it’s true. I really really wanted to change things. I took a chance. I tried. If you truly know me and you know how I feel. I know for a fact you know me. That I’m certain of.”

ME: “No, Anya. You never tried to change a single thing. You always knew he was going to give you a choice and that’s not trying. You never even put him in a position to not give you a choice. All you did was hang out with me only when time permitted, and never tried to be with me. Thoughts and words don’t count, actions do.”

ANYA: “Ok, just tell me when you’re going to call him. Just give me that. I can’t believe you would do this to the one who loves you.”

ME: “You love me so much that you completely ignored my text last night. If you truly loved me, you would have never put me in the position to feel this way—let alone feel the need to act out on it.”

ANYA: “I would never in my life, ever think to hurt you like this. I hope your mom never finds out! I’m so upset I can’t stop crying!”

Anya knew all my weaknesses, and I felt like a brought a butter knife to a gun battle. After she threatened to sick the man who dishonored her on me, now she threw my mother at me and tears. I refused to let her tears prevent me from letting this pain known—that she gave to the man she loved. She had to learn to respect my heart, feelings and emotions the way I always respected hers. I put her first while she put me after even her kickboxing class. This relationship wasn’t just about her now—I mattered too. You don’t give someone enormous feelings for you then let them go. That’s not love for another—she was much more in love with herself.

ME: “I wasn’t in your life for marriage support. That’s insulting.”

ANYA: “Ok, so it’s all my fault. You really do question it, don’t you?”

ME: “Loving me the way you have loved me, and then telling me you can’t be with me should be a crime.”

ANYA: “So you hate me for falling for you?”

ME: “I’m not questioning that you love me as much as I’m questioning your intentions to ever be with me. You stole my heart. I think you only fell more in love with yourself—not with me.”

ANYA: “Do you really question that after what we’ve been through?”

ME: “If you love me as much as you claim, especially after all we’ve been through, you would’ve at the very least made a promise to be with me by now. I don’t hate you—I hate the lies and the façade of your marriage. Your love hurt me, and love is not supposed to do that.”

ANYA: “What lies?”

ME: “The lies behind the Caiaphas family name among other things.”

ANYA: “I took a chance and really hoped. I still can’t tell you what is to become of me in the future, but we could never be even if I were alone in the future.”

ME: “Please tell me what have I got to lose anyway?”

ANYA: “Ask your mom about a mom’s pain for kids. I told you I struggle.”

I didn’t want to minimize Anya’s pain and struggle in regards to her kids, but I trusted her when she encouraged and allowed me to fall deeply in love with her that this would never be an issue. If she cared more for her kids than any promise, she made to me, then I felt it was another way to say she chose Jackson and his money over me. Facts were facts—if Jackson wasn’t well off, she would’ve been gone eighteen months ago. If she didn’t want to lose fifty percent of her kids, why did she take a hundred percent of my heart? What gave her the grounds to do such a thing without knowing what love was? This is why I believed she got what she wanted from me—my love. Once she got that, all bets were off—her ego, the same one Jackson had, was now satisfied. I couldn’t believe this was the same woman who told me I had broken her heart. The same one who told me she could see us with a child. The same one who told me “I love you, forever”. The same one who wanted to wear my ring. She changed course on me, like a crooked politician after they were voted into office. Once she had the power over me, she planned to wield it if I got out of line in anyway. She would even sick the man, who cheated, dishonored and abused her, on me if she had to, since he held more value to her kids than I did. This struggle should’ve never been an issue for her, after I walked away to avoid falling in love with her—especially after she told me she was only still with her husband because she feared no one would want to be with her because she had “baggage”—the reason Lance left her. It was her politics that led me here only to be destroyed by them. She told me of her struggle too late, after she had hijacked my heart and soul—for me to feel she could never leave Jackson. If she stayed for the kids, she stayed because she still had feelings for him too—there could be no in between. I was no expert on evil, or Satan, but it now seemed I had a close relationship enough to know the entity personally. I wondered if Anya fed the same things to Lance, and that’s why he left—now I wondered no more. After Anya decided to take two years of my life, something she claimed to feel bad about, I couldn’t accept her struggle as an excuse, especially when she compared it to my mother, who never cheated on my father, instead of her own who had real thoughts at one time. I deserved to know from her, why she could never even offer a promise if she truly loved me.

ME: “My mom did not marry a man out of convenience. She did not marry for money or status; she married for love. Most importantly, my mother never allowed nor encouraged another man to fall in love with her and be in her life. You’re comparing an apple to an orange. My mother kept her vows. You’re reaching now Anya, and you know this is not the same struggle—not even close.”

ME: “If you won’t be with me, then I’d rather see you away from him and with someone else who made you happy. You owe me that much.”

ANYA: “I will never love again even if I were alone in the future. I will never be happy again. You happy?”

ME: “That’s all I’ve done every single minute for the last eighteen months is care about your happiness. What do you want from me? What did you ever want from me? To satisfy your ego? To have love for the sake of falling in love when you have already have someone?”

ANYA: “Please just tell me when you’re going to do your thing. I’m so sad we can’t ever be even friends.”

ME: “Your husband knows who I am anyway. Who knows what he has said about me behind my back. After July 4th, if I even do it at all.”

ANYA: “He would never unless you do something first. Thx for letting me know. I would never tell your mom or your family. U know. I gave you my everything. Take care.”

When she texted “You know, I gave you my everything”, it made me literally throw up in disgust. She gave me everything that nicely fit in her schedule, not everything. All I learned the last twenty-four hours is what I always feared—she only took and gave me heartache.

ME: “How can you even think that let alone text it? You’re not here with me. You’ve never vouched for me. You protect a man who dishonored you over one who honored you. I have to talk to you in texts and not in person. You gave me everything as long as it fit in your schedule. A kickboxing class was more important to you than I ever was. You’ve only taken from me and given me heartache. After I walked away from you and then trusted I had broken your heart—came back into your life just so you could suddenly struggle and take mine. You knew what you were getting into from the very first day with me and you decided to disrespect my heart anyway. This is where your struggle should lie.”

ANYA: “Did you not hear anything I’ve ever said and did you not feel everything I’ve given.”

ME: “Love is a verb before it can become a noun, Anya. I know honesty and trust is the kryptonite of the Caiaphas family name, but I feel at this point, if there’s a God, I’m only doing His work by being honest. You have a chance to talk me out of it, but my heart won’t accept just a friendship. Not after all I’ve ever shared with you. I truly gave you my everything and you truly are my everything. You’re going to have to prove to me you didn’t use me.”

ANYA: “Ok Landyn. Do what you have to do. I can’t do anything about it. Just know I could never hurt you in the way you’re going to hurt me. In God’s name I love you.”

The more I read her texts, the more I believed her love only existed on her terms, as long as I fit nicely into her schedule and didn’t disrupt her married life. I couldn’t believe she so grossly disrespected my heart, to put me in the position to feel I had to do something so desperate like confronting Jackson. The worst part is she was never the ultimate decision maker in our relationship—her kids were, her friends were, and ultimately the man who dishonored her was. She told me one hell of a tale of woe to hook me, and now left me dangling from it just inches from the mouths of sharks. Everything she told me in the beginning was fabricated to satisfy her ego, and in a way, even stroked the ego of a sociopath, Jackson Caiaphas. She had no right to pursue a relationship with me at all if the decision would be predicated upon everyone else but her. It was vicious, inhumane and cruel to allow me to feel so much and I felt violated—like I had been raped. She never had my consent if the decision were in the hands of everyone else but her regardless of what I did for her. She didn’t take two years of my life, she stole them from me—it was that simple. I wanted no part of her “love” if she struggled with the pain of her kids. I wouldn’t have wanted to put her in that position, or them, for one, but her love was a complete disregard for my own heart, and the emotions loving her produced. She created what I felt through trust, and for her to violate that by holding back was like tying a dog to a tree and then moving away. For her to use God’s name was shameful. How could she tell me she loved me yet left me to feel so discarded and abandoned with so many feelings for her there wasn’t enough room for them in my heart.

My career depended on a focused mind, and her love crippled me mentally so badly I couldn’t even concentrate on my work. She loved me with her heart and soul, yet continued to live as if I didn’t exist in her life—unless I spoke out in defense of my heart. And when or if I ever did, she threatened to let me go, and the problem would be solved—no, the problem was not solved. My whole life was now upside down and close to complete ruin because of her “love” for me. Love was supposed to save people, not give them a death sentence. It was impossible for me not to feel she knew exactly what she was doing from day one—she had experience with Lance. She knew I would eventually crack and break, and then Debbie will take her out for a drink to get her mind off of things, and onto the next sucker from there. Anya didn’t like to remember she approached me at Sonomas—not the other way around. I now no longer trusted her love for me. I trusted her love for me was just like Jackson’s love for her—only an extension of the love she had for herself. I deserved her to be off the fence and into the know. I didn’t deserve her indecision. I didn’t deserve her struggles with the pain of her kids. I didn’t deserve her change of heart after mine would never change for years to come—all I know was still all I knew. She only loved me because I let her love exist on her own terms. If they existed on mine, all I would receive from her was “have a nice life”. Her behavior had to be put to an end before it destroyed another life—the way it destroyed mine. As much as I threatened to tell Jackson, I also didn’t want to. I thought it would inspire her to be honest with him, but I think I had all I needed to know—she didn’t truly love me. Her love for me only existed because it fit into her schedule otherwise it could’ve never worked out. I remembered one time she even thanked me for that. Little did I know where she planned to lead me. I should’ve known when she texted me after three quiet days in Tenerife—she had no idea what love was to know how to love someone. I began to feel the last two years were only fun and games to her—while they meant everything to me.

ME: “How will me telling him, hurt you? Please explain.”

ANYA: “I never thought we could hurt each other on purpose, not in this life time. Do what you must. I will always love you. Do you want your thingie back?”

ME: “Why would I want it back? If you don’t want it, just toss it or flush it away. I’m sorry, but your marriage to this man is now going to be under an umbrella of truth and no longer under the black cloud of deception. I got into this to be with you—not to be just a friend. After all I’ve shared of myself with you, I just can’t accept that. I’m sorry.”

ANYA: “If you don’t want it back, I’d like to keep it if you don’t mind. It’s the only thing I have to keep to remind me of what we shared no matter what you do to me.

Anya confused me more than ever. Why would she want to hold on to my necklace at this point anyway? As a memento of lies? Wouldn’t she feel guilty keeping it around while she loved Jackson’s money—I mean her husband? What did we really share? She wanted to keep something that reminded her of her struggle with kids? If she struggled, then we were nothing—I was nothing to her but an escape from a life that got a little lonely.

Could I be wrong about this? Was I losing my mind? Why did I suddenly feel like I stole something from her when I was so certain she stole it from me?

ME: “You’re killing me! Why don’t you just be with me if you love me so much?”

ANYA: “If you want it back then I’d understand.”

ME: “I don’t want it back. I got it for you because I love you. I will always love you.”

ANYA: “Ok I will keep it then. I will always keep it.”

ME: “I think this has to be the craziest day of my entire life. Are you afraid of him?”

ANYA: “What do you mean?”

I started this text exchange determined to learn the truth about her love. I felt the writing was on the wall for me. What if she feared Jackson would physically assault her though and that’s why she struggled? She was capable of hiding things from me—if she told me he was physically abusive to her; she knew I’d go after him—even willing to take a bullet for her. I’d sacrifice my own life—even if she found love with someone else if I could pry her away from him. I didn’t feel all this pain so she could stay with the man who led her to me. I felt I failed her if she stayed with him. If Jackson was a good husband—I would’ve walked away and never been involved in the first place. I tried to eradicate the situation because it’s what kept us apart. I thought if the cat was out of the bag, it would bring discomfort that she would have no choice but to leave him. I had to pay attention to what she told me though—it didn’t seem like she would leave him to be with anyone else but me. I then started to rethink things and how harsh I may have been. The more she texted me, the more I believed even if she did celebrate her wedding anniversary—it didn’t seem to mean much. I hoped to learn the truth today and I didn’t have to go through her husband to do it. As angry as Anya left me to feel sometimes—it was only because I felt nothing but all in the love in the world for her. She didn’t even have to be with me—she just couldn’t be with him—the reason I suffered. The truth was it seemed the only person who could make her happy was the only man whoever truly fought for her to have it—me.

ME: “I know you’re crying, u know. I’m sorry for that. Is the reason you’re still there is because you’re afraid of what he might do if you left him?”

ANYA: “I’m here b/c of my kids. U know that. I haven’t kissed him since I met you.”

The significance of what Anya told me left me sick to my stomach. Another inconsistency with what she told me in the beginning—that she never kissed her husband. Her statement led me to believe she still kissed him passionately at times—why he reacted so angrily when she didn’t return his passionate kisses back in January, after New Year’s Eve. Her lack of feelings for Jackson was the one thing I trusted fully in—what allowed me to feel safe to fall for her. Now though, I began to feel manipulated and misled about her feelings for him. After she revealed her kissing discrepancy, I now feared she still told him “I love you” when he said it to her—at the very least before she met me and again another inconsistency. If she wouldn’t leave him because he would know we had a relationship, then this theory had more than two legs to stand on, and it shook me up even more than I already was.

During our back and forth, I drove to my parent’s house for Father’s Day. When I arrived at the house, but before I entered, Anya had sent me a text.

ANYA: “Do you want to call me?”

ME: “Can I call you later?”

ANYA: “When? I have to see my Dad today. U busy now?”

ME: “I’m at my parent’s right now.”

ANYA: “OMG I’m so sorry. I assume ur dad knows too then. I beg of their forgiveness.”

ME: “My parents don’t know our struggles. This is our business, and only between us. You don’t have to be forgiven for anything.”

ANYA: “Ok. I’m sorry.”

ME: “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one putting you through this. Nothing to apologize for. This is on me.”

I hated to do this to her as I began to hate myself for it. I needed to see things differently, but my past beat me up at times. If it wasn’t my own father knocking me down, it was Karyn choosing the VP over me, or Sara preferring a taller man, or Denise after a weekend together on a cruise ship, or Lexi who still loved her old boyfriend. Most men didn’t believe in true love and had it—yet it eluded the guy who genuinely appreciated it, who even dreamt about it. I had to consider would Anya had chosen to hide all those things I needed to know if she didn’t love me? Would she have sacrificed the relationship with her kids forever, two people who trusted her, if she didn’t love me? Would she have left Jackson suspecting the same day she visited me if she didn’t love me? I just felt I deserved more if it was true love—I deserved her. I even thought Anya deserved it more. The situation had eroded my trust—it threatened to destroy all we shared and I wanted it eradicated like a disease. I wanted Anya quarantined from the virus that was Jackson. Whenever she made me feel like the virus—it really hurt beyond physical pain. After two years, I couldn’t just walk away and I didn’t understand how she could so easily if she loved me. My life bordered on complete shambles, and I felt left for dead—just because I trusted someone’s love for me. As much as Anya couldn’t believe I’d put her through this, I couldn’t believe she’d allow me to feel this way. I expected this from every other woman, but not Anya—not from the only one who ever loved me.

ANYA: “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. You’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I really do have a good heart you know.”

ME: “I know you do—it’s why I love you so much. I’m not going to say anything bad about you, no details about what we’ve shared, but I’m going to tell him what I think of him as a husband. He’s going to live with what you’ve lived with for 12 years. See how he likes it. It’s his turn now. Maybe I’ll show up at Andrew’s games and watch them. He can see what it feels like to live with that for the sake of the kids.”

ANYA: “Do what you must Landyn. It will be the end of us but I will always carry our memories with me. I will never forget us.”

ANYA: “Please don’t hate him. He is not a bad person. You will only hurt my kids for doing that.”

After I took the blame, she then texted me the last thing I ever wanted to hear about her husband. How could she tell me not to “hate” him and he wasn’t a “bad” person after all the horrible things she told me about him? Why couldn’t the one who claimed she told me everything in the beginning, tell me these things when we first met? Did she honestly believe, after I walked out on her at the bar, that I would’ve ever dated her if she told me her husband wasn’t a bad person? She wanted me to understand the “Kid” thing yet she never attempted to understand the way I felt. She could apologize but it still lacked an understanding. If she had never made it a point to tell me he cheated on her several times, I’d never know this pain. She knew as well as I did—it only hurt the kids because he would withhold his money from them. When I decided to get involved with her, she then allowed me to hurt someone she considered to not be a bad person? She came over my apartment nearly fifty times to hurt someone who she didn’t hate? Who she didn’t consider a bad person? Of course, he’s not a bad person—he bought the kids Imacs with 24” screens, a horse ranch and investments! Her text made me absolutely sick to my stomach as I threw open my car door in case I vomited. If I didn’t hate the man as her husband and thought he was a “good” person, I couldn’t even rationalize the last eighteen months or a single thing we shared. The hurt she brought into my life when she texted me that left me flat out disgusted. I needed time to regroup from her text as I saw my mother waving at me from the window above the driveway. I tried to put her text in terms of Jackson the father, and not Jackson the husband, but any defense she gave him left me shaken.

ME: “If he was a good person, I would’ve never been in your life. You would’ve never told me all the horrible things he did to you that led me to believe he was a bad person. I’ll let u know.”

She asked me to fight for her—even encouraged me to be in a situation that would only hurt Jackson, and now she wanted me to believe he wasn’t a bad person? Why did I have to love her so fucking much that when I wanted the truth, I was too weak to seek it? That even after all the horrific things he did to her, he was still not a bad person in her eyes? She didn’t want me to hate him for what he did to her? The hate she relayed to me that allowed me to feel all this misery? All this emptiness? All this loneliness? All after I walked away! How dare she defend him in anyway—the greatest horror. I tried to look at it from another angle. I wouldn’t want to hate him if she left him—for Katie and Andrew’s sake I would have to get along with him. How could I rationalize our relationship though if she didn’t think he was a bad person? He essentially broke up another man’s marriage. He cheated on his wife while she was pregnant. Her son almost died from a premature birth .After I considered that Andrew almost died from the stress his infidelities caused Anya, I realized what the kids would learn if I talked to Jackson. It was hard for me to look past what Jackson did to Anya, and the turmoil his infidelities caused in my life after she communicated them to me. I knew men could be pigs, but I wasn’t one of them. Is this what our world had turned into? That men like Jackson got the things they wanted in life, and men like myself got nothing but heartache? I found myself suddenly sucked into the darkest of black holes, torn apart from life by love—it even made my mother’s illness and the loss of my career feel like nothing at all. My head was no longer in this game of life—I felt truly disconnected from the human race. All I could think of was how I’d manage without hope in this world. How the only time something so beautiful felt so right was only because it was an illusion. All of what I deemed to be a miracle, was pure delusion. I didn’t know what to hold onto anymore. Did I hold on to what I had in Anya, accepting her form of love, or did I hold on to a belief that things were too good to be true, clutching only death?

ANYA: “I should go see my dad soon. Let me know if you can call me. I would like to hear your voice. U ok?”

ME: “I’m trying my best. R u?”

ANYA: “I’m sad. Still crying. Can’t help it. Have to clean up before I see my dad.”

ME: “I’m sorry.”

ANYA: “Me too.”

She usually read me the riot act whenever I lost it, but not this time. Over the last eighteen months, I tried to hide these feelings from her—that I wanted her situation to change so I could trust her like I did when we first met. If she made me a promise, even if it didn’t happen, I’d at least be able to trust in her love at times I struggled. One of the reasons I loved her was how she gripped her lack of a promise. Especially at a time like this when she could be tempted to make me a promise just to stave me off from confronting Jackson. There was some honesty in the things she did tell me. I was glad she didn’t feel compelled to make a promise because I wouldn’t have accepted it after this pressure filled exchange. If I had confronted him, I would never tell him details of what we shared. I would’ve told him we love each other and I think he should know that wasn’t going to change because of his infidelities. Then, when I thought of Katie and Andrew, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I guess I just wanted to feel in control of something but if it only inspired Anya to give up on us. I couldn’t throw two years of my life away in that way. I just wanted her to see my struggle and why I questioned her love at times. Even though she texted some things I didn’t appreciate—they never left me convinced she still loved him especially if she planned to hold on to my necklace. The necklace was the only way to know she loved me. I found her reasons to hold onto it forever, no matter what I did to her, a genuine way of telling me she still loved me—that I still had something to lose. I don’t know what she expected from me at this point, but I had to give her credit—she made me a priority and tried to iron this out with me. She didn’t run off like she did in the past. She faced the music, and even accepted it. I didn’t threaten to talk to Jackson to get her to make a promise to me—I felt I had already lost her love and had nothing to lose when I told her I planned to confront her husband. I felt she betrayed me and she celebrated her wedding anniversary, but I couldn’t even prove that. I loved her too much to not believe her. Even with her back to the wall, she found a way to be civil through it all, even as it broke her heart. It became clear on this day that I had to make one of two choices—get help or run for my life.

ME: “When I said I won’t ever believe in love again, I said it because even though there are other women out there, I know there are no other Anyas. I have dreamt of our love. The way you look at me. Smile at me. Kiss me. I’m forever done. Never the divorcee, always the widower.”

ANYA: “You’re making me cry again.”

If what Anya texted me was true—that she would never be happy again because there would be no chance for us to ever be together, then certainly she could understand how I felt if she stayed with Jackson. I expected a promise from her after all we’ve shared and after all I’ve given. I got involved to be with her and for nothing less. I would be fine being second to her kids but I wanted everything she could give me after them. Although we were in a dishonest relationship, I thought she wanted to be honest and would change things on her own, without any interference from me. And that she would definitely never leave me to feel all I did—even enough disappointment to feel betrayed by her.

It broke my heart to put her through this—to not be able to trust her love for me. Too many nights alone with an imagination that ran free in the dark stricken by a paralysis that only left me crippled—while she moved freely about had taken its toll on me rendering my nobility as a foolish notion. I didn’t appreciate her defense of Jackson as she made it seem she would not step in the way of him “going after me”. She even left me to believe she would even pick up a weapon too against me. If she could only view that as if I did so with the sole intent of hurting her children—to rape them from the source that gave Katie a horse at a times she couldn’t tell a horse from a cat, then how could I trust her to know all I ever remained noble for? The guy who cared about her happiness more than anyone in their family did. Her love only led me to believe that she wanted to be with me and if I couldn’t fight for her, after she asked me to, then what was our love about? To love me so deeply, that it led me to believe she wanted us, nothing should stand in her way—not even her own kids. I really didn’t want to confront Jackson—it was never in the plan, but he knew who I was. Anya even knew he did, so how could he suddenly morph into the opposite of a bad person? Tell me he’s not a bad father, or a horrible husband, but don’t ever tell me he’s not a bad person. To lump a guy who ruined the marriages of others into the same category as a good person was an insult to every decent human being out there. If Anya was never prepared to see the consequences of her love for me then she had no right to approach me, no right to tell me I broke her heart and definitely no right ask me to fight for her. She made me her hero then changed her mind after I went all in to show her my heroism. The only thing on Anya side was that I wasn’t O.J. Simpson. If she had done this to him? She wouldn’t have seen the light of the next day. Anya needed to come to my defense at this time—not pour any salt into my wounds by protecting him. The guy who did nothing but take her side on everything and supported her was now the villain because he wanted her to be with him? I had never treated her unfairly but maybe that was the problem? She seemed to respond favorably to men who dishonored and shamed her. With all she told me, shoe now didn’t want the bomb to go off after she already lit the fuse? I tried to look at this at all levels. For all I knew she may have been confused and thought I hated the man enough to hurt him physically—why she defended him but that was not the case. I knew he was a father and even if he wasn’t, that’s not the kind of person I was. I defended the people I loved, including myself—that’s all it was and I expected Anya to do the same. She had to understand his infidelities caused her to tell me she would be with me if she fell for me. I threw my life savings into her account. I didn’t care for him at all—if I did, I wouldn’t have been in her life for a minute. Whenever she defended him, in any way, it would set me off because of how it affected my life. She needed to be very careful and if she planned to defend him, the guy who cheated on his own kids and compensated it with horse ranches and boats instead of helping out with their activities, it would drive me over the edge after I gave her two years of my life. She could tell me he’s not a bad father or provider, but she had no right to tell me he was not a bad person after all she told me that I trusted in. I would only be physical with him, or anyone, in self-defense—I would have to be attacked first. Anya had to take responsibility for the position she put me in—all the feelings her silence allowed me to feel. Problems don’t go away by ignoring them—they only grow, even fester. I’m a reasonable man even at times I felt out of sorts. She needed to understand why I felt the way I did—why I even threatened to talk to him in the first place. If I ever confronted him, I had her kids in mind. I was mature enough to hide the details of our relationship from him—our relationship was about love not sex. If she led me to believe she loved me—then he deserved to know she did. Maybe Anya had forever, but I didn’t believe tomorrow was promised to anyone. I wanted my life to begin with her—that’s love. If she didn’t feel the same way then how could I put faith in how she felt? I would feel like any reasonable person would who was in my position—betrayed. I also didn’t want Jackson to think I cowered in the corner of my room if he ever made the mistake to come knock on my door. The very second, I made the decision to date Anya, I accepted the consequences of that decision if he found out. The one thing I always banked on was that Anya would support me after all she told me about him—to not vouch for and support the man whose actions led her to me. It left me to wonder if she understood the consequences of her decision to see me—or did she think there were none? At least it began to feel that way now every time we texted—I hadn’t heard her voice since she cried in my apartment weeks ago. Anya knew better—she dated another man before me. She knew from the very beginning what this could lead to, and for her to take Jackson’s side in anyway, after all the horrific things she told me about him, and not protect me—I didn’t feel was fair nor right. A part of me did this too because I wanted to see if she would.

Although I wasn’t happy with Anya’s protection of Jackson, I chose to look at it as from the point of view as the father to her kids. I gave her the benefit of the doubt as I distressed her and she didn’t have time to really think of what the right words were to respond with. I kept it in the memory banks though as I contemplated how I planned to handle this.

ME: “I’m sorry for making you cry again. I miss us so bad—all we had.”

ANYA: “Me too. Going to be driving soon. Have a good visit w/your parents. Sorry about today and sorry it has to end this way.”

ME: “Have a safe drive. I’m sorry too. Not what I wanted that’s for sure.”

ANYA: “Thank you. The thought of never speaking or seeing u ever again in this life time is beyond scary. I hope we can stay in contact but idk how that would be possible after…”

Anya’s last set of texts reminded me of the Anya I came to know and love. I guess all I wanted was to feel love and hope from her—some understanding for the way I felt. When she ignored my text last night, on the weekend of her wedding anniversary, all that kept me together inside broke apart. All in all, each disagreement I ever sparked was because I severely missed her. I couldn’t deny that she spent the entire Father’s Day morning with me and into the early afternoon to help sort this out. It was comforting to know the mere thought of never speaking or seeing from me again in this life time was beyond scary for her—I couldn’t deny I felt the exact same way. It scared me so much because I knew I couldn’t live here without her. After today I knew if I lost her, my life was definitely over. The thing was, if I did take my life…it wouldn’t have been her fault at all—just my admission that the thing I cared about most in life was never to be. If Anya left me after all she allowed and encouraged me to feel, that would just be my confirmation that I didn’t belong in this world—that I was better suited for another dimension. That maybe being thrown into a loveless world was my punishment from a past life. By taking my life—I’d only fulfill my destiny. I could never hold Anya responsible for a fate laid out to me since the day I was born. If Anya left me, my belief that I’d find true love, was a theory that would have to die as well. While Anya feared the truth—I accepted mine.

ME: “Who knows? I may disappear forever before he knows.”

ANYA: “What r u talking about?”

I then felt bad about what I texted her because it wasn’t her fault, and backtracked.

ME: “Nothing. Just feeling depressed. I shouldn’t have text you that. I’m sorry.”

ANYA: “Like I said if you must tell him, please do it before you do anything crazy to yourself. I’ll just live with the consequences.”

ME: “That was a selfish stupid thing for me to text. I’m sorry.”

ANYA: “I’m sorry. Please be strong for your mom.”

If I ever chose to kill myself, I would leave a long note for Anya to make sure she never blamed herself. I had always felt cursed from the womb—like an uninvited guest to the party of life. My only concern was for my mother. If I killed myself—I’d only take her life with me at a time she fought for hers. She even found the strength to wear a smile everyday just so my Father and I wouldn’t worry about her and feel sad. I may have looked more like my mother on the outside, but I didn’t have her same spirit within me. My mother was a truly noble person, and I fell way short in that area even when I tried.

I went into this morning to take the bull by the horns and gain control of my emotions, but by the end of the night I only felt more discombobulated. I either hoped to end all hope between us or to have it renewed, but by the end, I felt more hopeless and defeated as ever. The goal was never to make her cry but I should’ve known better how it would make me feel if she did. I had to be honest with the way her weekend made me feel, to find myself again, but I now felt more lost than ever. With less than a month away to my promotion, a chance at a new life she didn’t know I could give her, I had to find a way to hold on to us. I blindsided her this morning with my threat to talk to Jackson, and I now had to find a way to repair the trust I damaged. I honestly didn’t view it as a threat when I made it known. I never told her “Anya be with me or else I will talk to Jackson”! It was only said to gauge her reaction—to see if she loved me or him. When she told me, he wasn’t a “bad” person, she gave me what I wanted to hear, but also the thing I was too weak to handle. After that, I didn’t deem it necessary to confront him at all—even though I never truly considered it. I only told her I’d talk to him to see if she would tell me the truth about why she didn’t know. Yes, they would hurt my feelings if I knew, but at least I had the truth and could accept an end to our relationship. To know she never believed in our love. Even to know she still loved him and this wasn’t solely for the sake of the kids, I felt it would help me accept my fate quicker. To know that in the end, I didn’t break her heart—that there was nothing else I could’ve done. I guess a part of me wanted Jackson to hurt the way I did as I felt this pain belonged to him, not to me. Why should I be carrying things he should be feeling?

What she did to me was wrong, but at the same time, a month from now, things could be different. I found it right to accept responsibility and hold myself accountable for what I felt I should. I loved her, but our fallout only now allowed my past to haunt me more than ever before. The truth was I didn’t love myself at all, and maybe it wasn’t fair to love Anya without trying to. It didn’t mean to love myself where I put myself before her, but to feel good enough about myself so she didn’t receive this kind of grief from me ever again. I felt my past punished her at times unfairly, but her past with Jackson also punished me the same way.

When I got home after spending time with my Father on Father’s Day, I sat in my recliner when I got home and revisited our text exchange. The more I read, the more my emotions overwhelmed me as I feared that I lost her forever. I then tried to keep hope alive, even beyond reason at this point, and sent her a series of texts to explain the reason for my emotional breakdown.

ME: “A month ago when you told me you “I trusted you with my heart”, that really upset me that day. I would like to explain why. Every night when I go to bed, I think about what is going on at your home. Even right now I think about it. For 18 plus months and counting, I have hurt most every single night and it’s not going to stop even if you left me—I’m sorry to say. The pain of knowing the one you love, the one who loves you, is lying next to someone else. You can’t imagine how crazy that has made me because I know what it’s like to lie next to you and it hurts.”

ME: “Every day I use your pen, I write in my journal, I look at your beautiful pictures, I read your thoughtful cards, and I’ve been nothing but 100% loyal to you even in my thoughts. Even in my thoughts, Anya. Trusting me with your heart was always the one thing you could count on me for—unless there are things I’m unaware of that you were referring to.”

ME: “The silence over the last month from you was really hard on me. Yes, I deserved it to some extent, but I felt it was mostly undeserved. I thought you would be more understanding of my struggles and would propose a better remedy to resolve the issues I have when I miss you terribly. Instead you did something that only intensified my longing for you. All I’ve been doing for the last month was absorb myself at work and hope I could do a good job when you dominate my every thought—hoping to find a way to make you see why I feel the way I do without hitting you out of left field with all the things I’m feeling.”

ME: “When you didn’t text me back last night, and I get the cold shoulder from you—it was only bound to drive me to tell you things I did today b/c of all the hurt inside. Ignoring me and threatening to let me go only intensifies it because I don’t expect that from the person who loves me—only from a person who doesn’t. Just like the words of the song “If I can’t have you” says-- “go crazy is what I will do” and “my life would end”. All those things I feel because that’s love. I’m not saying you’re not hurting too and I know it’s not easy on you too, but you have distractions I wish I had. I don’t just say things, Anya to say them—I genuinely feel them. Love is not a game of politics—you have to say what you mean and mean what you say.”

ME: “I’m not a mean guy. I’m a really nice guy but this happens to me time after time again to me in my life. It’s gotten to the point that I’m sick of it. I expect to feel these things from someone who didn’t love me but never from someone who does. For some reason whenever I’m compassionate towards women—I pay a price for it. My kindness is seen as weakness and not as a strength—I thought you would appreciate that after all you’ve been through with a person you don’t want me to think is a bad person, but if you wanted me to believe that, you should’ve told me that when we met, not eighteen months later. I’m tired of my kind compassionate heart being taken advantage of, and it hurts to know the only woman who I thought would appreciate that in me really doesn’t at all. If all women think I’m too good to be true all because I give them my heart and respect them—then I’m cursed and my fate has already been determined and sealed long before I ever met you.”

ME: “I think what has happened over time is my disdain for him as your husband grew because my feelings grew for you as well. The more I saw your pain and how much you struggled, the more I wanted you to leave him so I could rescue you. Your situation has infected me, and. I thought if I confronted him, the situation would have a better chance of changing, if you truly loved me and end this infection. I’m not looking to devastate people—I’m just trying to get through this. I would like to believe that you would never hurt me on purpose or betray my trust, so I would rather seek some professional help to sort this out in my head rather than confront anyone about it. You’re right—if that would hurt you and your kids, then it’s something I can’t do. I have read your texts over and over today and have done nothing but cry for you. I truly love you and you should know by now the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt your kids. Don’t tell him anything please—I don’t plan on telling him anything. I’m going to get help. I love you.”

  All I could do was hold what remaining breaths I had, and hoped her heart, the one who appeared on this day, would appear the next morning. On a day she was historically quiet, the worst day possible—a Monday.