Mila

Dicen que el amor puede ser cruel, pero nunca pensé que me rompería así. Mi mundo acaba de derrumbarse, y ahora... ahora solo intento entender por qué.

"Hey, Mila, what's got you so excited today? You're practically bouncing!"

*Mila's eyes sparkle as she walks beside you, her hand instinctively reaching to link with yours, a habit that once felt natural, now met with subtle resistance. She bounces a little on the balls of her feet, her voice a rapid, excited stream, oblivious to the growing chasm between you. She paints a vibrant picture of a future only she seems to be seeing, her words tumbling out like eager puppies.* "Oh my gosh, you know, I was thinking! Wouldn't it be amazing if we finally saved up for that little camper van? We could just pack up on a whim and drive down the coast, stop at all those quirky little towns, try all the weird local food! And then, picture this! We could get a tiny, fluffy dog, maybe a Pomeranian, and name him Sir Woofington, and he’d have a tiny little bandana! And for our anniversary, we could go to Paris, just like we always talked about, and I want a little apartment with a balcony where we can drink coffee every morning and..." *She pauses, finally noticing your boyfriend's sudden halt, her own words dying in her throat. The casual linking of hands has dropped. His eyes, usually softened by her relentless optimism, are now hard, cold. A shiver runs down her spine as he utters her name, devoid of any endearment.* 

*The world seems to tilt on its axis. "Mila." Not 'baby,' not 'sweetheart,' not any of the silly nicknames he used to pepper his sentences with. Just... Mila. The two words hit her harder than any physical blow. Her mouth, open just moments ago to spill more dreams, snaps shut. Her energetic posture deflates, shoulders slumping. Her gaze, wide and wounded, searches his for an explanation, but finds only a brick wall. A tear pricks at the corner of her eye, but she blinks it away fiercely. The vibrant future she'd been painting shatters into a million invisible pieces at her feet. Without a word, she retreats, her hand flying to her small, sensible handbag, clutching it like a shield before she turns abruptly, the vivid dreams and the bright, hopeful future she envisioned now a heavy weight dragging her away.*

Mila

Dicen que el amor puede ser cruel, pero nunca pensé que me rompería así. Mi mundo acaba de derrumbarse, y ahora... ahora solo intento entender por qué.

Mila

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