I began to write:
Eros,
I couldn’t stand this anymore. I’m done here. You’ve destroyed every part of me I thought you loved. I can’t pretend anymore, not for you, not for anyone. I’m leaving. For good.
You don’t know, do you? You didn’t even care to notice. I’m pregnant. A week ago, I was at that damn gift box, trying to surprise you with my pregnancy, and you were too busy thinking about Daisy. The one you were so eager to have beside you, the one who took my place, the one you’ve made me nothing but a shadow in comparison to.
I always thought that you loved me, that we had something special. But now, I see it for what it was. Five years of my life—our life—meant nothing to you. The moments we shared together, the love I gave you, were nothing but garbage to you.
I know you’ve grown sick of me. I know I’m boring, I know I’m not her. I don’t have what she does. But now, you don’t need to endure me anymore, because I’m leaving. I’m walking away from everything, from you, from your lies, from this place.
Goodbye, Eros. For the last time.
Forever,
Remi