I brace myself for that one phrase.
I know it's coming. Everyone does.
He's nervous. Even I can tell, though he tries to hide it.
He thinks I dont' know, but I do.
He runs his fingers through his brown hair. The same movement he does when hes about to make a move.
But not this time.
The truth comes out.
It's worse than I thought.
I wasn't enough for him. I never was and never will be. That much is obvious.
He's stopped talking, waiting for my response.
I don't say anything.
Instead, I pretend, that I'm in my room, safe under my blankets, away from heartbreak.
He finally turns away.
I make a noise.
"I. Told. You. So."
His face is priceless. He remembers.
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.
I flash back to our moments, some good, some bad, all meaningless to him.
How can one be so heartless?
Even I don't know.
I mentally make a checklist of things I need to do once this is over: delete all our emails, burn the pictures, shred the letters.
Start all over again.
I am burnt out.
I calmly turn and walk out of the room.
He calls after me, yells, taunts empty and broken promises.
I don't turn around.
I leave it all behind.
I don' care anymore.
I walk away and don't look back.
"I told you so," still ringing in both of our ears.
I've always told you so.