I Saw the Name in My Fiance’s Heart So I Walked Away Chapter 09
I stayed in Oakhaven.
My new job wasn’t far from home. Clocked in at 8:30,,
clocked out at 5:30.
My coworkers were easy to be around. We argued about the best taco spots over lunch and groaned about team–building weekends.
I settled into the rhythm of it.
My mom bought me a new cat–shaped nightlight for my room. She said, “The old one was worn out. This one’s brighter.”
I smiled and pressed the switch. Warm yellow light spilled across my bed. I slept deep and dreamt good dreams.
I traveled more after that. Spring for the wildflowers, summer for the coast, autumn to climb a short mountain with my parents. I learned to take photos of
myself. I learned to eat a two–person meal deal all on my own.
Sometimes I passed a shop window, saw a dress I liked, and just bought it. No more snapping a picture and sending it off. No more waiting for a one–word reply.
Once, a coworker asked, “Maya, were you ever in a
serious relationship?”
I thought about it and nodded. “I was.”
“What happened?”
I took a sip of my coffee. “It ended.”
Every now and then, I’d catch a piece of news about
Derek. I heard he quit his old job and moved to a different city.I heard he went back to Crescent Dunes every year and sat by the water for hours.
Those words reached me, and I only smiled a little and let them pass.
As for Riley, she mailed me lemon bars once. Inside the box, there was a card: [Wishing you the best. Always.]
I kept the card. I ate the lemon bars. They still tasted
like that same old shop. When I finished, I dropped the box into the recycling bin.
Years later, I booked an early flight and took my parents to Crescent Dunes.
My mom saw real desert for the first time, giddy as a
kid. My dad kept his phone up, chasing her with the camera. We went to that little brisket shop at the end of Old Main Street.
The owner didn’t remember me, but he grinned anyway. “How many?”
“Three,” I said.
That time, I ordered three barbecue brisket sandwiches and three fresh lemonades.
Mom leaned back and patted her stomach, sighing.
“One sandwich each–that’s the way to do it. Sharing?
We would’ve still been hungry.”
We went to Crescent Dunes at dusk. The wind skimmed the sand, lights blinking on one by one.
Standing in that crowd, I suddenly thought about the girl I used to be the one who was so desperate to
know what label someone else held for her in their heart.
Back then, I thought labels meant place. Meant devotion. Meant whether someone would treasure me.
Now I understood. Words change. Hearts change.
The only place that didn’t need anyone else to confirm it was the place I gave myself.
Up ahead, Mom called out, “Maya, come on, let’s get the photo.”
I called back and walked toward them.
The night settled over Crescent Dunes, lights shimmering on the water. I stood between my parents,
looked into the lens, and smiled.
And in that moment, I didn’t need to read what anyone’s heart called me.
I was just Maya Hayes. And from now on, I would only ever be my own.