Chapter 3 Three

For the first three months, Lisa felt like she was living in a dream.

Joe had come into her life like sunlight breaking through a long, stubborn storm. He was charming, attentive, and he looked at her as if she were the only girl in the world. Lisa, with her cautious heart and layered fears, had begun to believe again. He made her laugh with silly impressions and never forgot to say goodnight. He brought her flowers just because, held her hand in public, and whispered sweet nothings into her ear that made her feel seen.

"This is what love must feel like," Lisa told her roommate one night, hugging a pillow tightly. "Like you're floating, but grounded at the same time."

Her roommate had smiled but said nothing. Sometimes, silence said everything.

Their relationship escalated quickly. Passion bloomed like a wildfire in a dry summer. Their conversations became deeper, touches more intimate, and the time they spent together felt sacred. Yet, as the weeks passed, Joe began to make a request that came up more and more often.

"Come watch a movie at my place," he'd say with a mischievous smile, leaning close. "Just us. We can talk afterward. I promise it'll be fun."

Lisa would laugh it off. "I've got an assignment due," or "I don't feel like going all the way to your place." But the truth was simpler: she wasn't ready. Not for what she felt Joe was truly asking for. She cherished their moments and wasn't sure she was ready to take the next step, especially not that step.

But Joe was persistent. "Just one night," he whispered one afternoon as they sat under the huge baobab tree near her faculty building. "One night, Lisa. You and me. Movies. Talking. No pressure."

He looked at her with those dark, earnest eyes, and Lisa's resolve began to falter. After a long silence, she nodded slowly.

"Alright," she whispered. "One night."

The night air was cool, carrying the scent of coming rain. Joe arrived with his usual bright smile, opening the car door for her like a gentleman. Her heart pounded in her chest-not with excitement, but with nervous anticipation.

They watched a film, but Lisa could hardly focus. The room was dim, and Joe's touches became more frequent, more lingering. His hands slid across her arm, then her back, then her waist.

"Joe..." she started, but he kissed her, soft and slow.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, and the words wrapped around her like a spell.

He kissed her again, deeper this time. She responded, heart trembling with confusion and longing. When his hands moved beneath her shirt, she hesitated but only for a moment. She told herself to trust him. He was her boyfriend. He loved her.

Clothes were discarded like leaves in the wind. The moment happened with a blend of urgency and tenderness. Joe didn't know he didn't realize it was her first time. She didn't tell him. She couldn't.

Afterward, Lisa lay still, staring at the ceiling. Joe fell asleep beside her, a peaceful smile on his face. Meanwhile, tears slid silently down Lisa's cheeks.

She hadn't planned it like this. She wanted it to be magical. With the man she'd spend forever with. Instead, she had given it away in the quiet shadows of Joe's dorm, wrapped in uncertainty and aching doubt.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains. Joe stretched beside her, grinning.

"Last night was... incredible," he said, pulling her close.

Lisa forced a smile, her heart sore and confused. She didn't respond.

Joe seemed oblivious to her silence. He made her breakfast eggs and toast and drove her back to campus, humming along to a pop song on the radio. He was happy. Genuinely happy.

And that made it worse.

Over the next few weeks, Lisa tried to bury her feelings. She didn't want to ruin what they had. She convinced herself it was fine, that maybe it was supposed to happen this way. Joe still cared for her, didn't he? He still called, sent messages, and asked about her day.

But slowly, the cracks began to show.

It started subtly. Lisa would go over to Joe's for the weekend, but he'd be out for hours-sometimes the entire day. He would return late, exhausted, and distracted.

"Where were you?" she asked one evening.

"Studying. You know how hectic school is right now," he said, avoiding her eyes.

She accepted his excuse, though unease curled in her stomach.

The next time it happened, she pressed further. "Joe, you've barely been around. I came to see you."

He sighed, visibly annoyed. "Lisa, I said I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to ignore you. Can we not do this right now?"

His apologies were always followed by soft kisses and promises that things would change. But they didn't.

Soon, his absences became the norm. Then came the financial requests.

"Lisa," he said one afternoon, pulling her aside. "I'm really in a tight spot. I need some cash for a textbook. Just until my parents send more money."

Lisa hesitated, but she gave him the money. Of course she did. He was her boyfriend.

The requests didn't stop. Textbooks, lab fees, emergency needs. Every time she voiced concern, he'd brush her off with a smile and a kiss. "I'll pay you back, babe. You know I will."

But he never did.

Valentine's Day came, and Lisa waited the whole day for a call, a message, a knock on her door. Nothing. When she finally reached him, his voice was groggy.

"Oh crap... it slipped my mind. I was swamped with work."

Her heart broke a little more.

Their anniversary came and went. Her birthday, too. Excuses piled up each one more disappointing than the last.

It was a warm Saturday morning when Lisa sat beneath the familiar baobab tree. The same tree where Joe had first asked her to spend the night. This time, she was alone, her thoughts heavy and knotted.

Tears brimmed in her eyes.

"How did I get here?" she whispered to herself.

She thought of Joe's smile. Of his hands. Of his voice whispering, "I love you." She thought of the promises. The empty beds. The money. The forgotten days.

And then she thought of Willy.

Willy, who had never pressured her. Who had always listened. Who had once told her she deserved a love that wouldn't make her second-guess herself.

She closed her eyes.

"I lost myself," she whispered. "And I want to find me again."

The decision didn't come with thunder or lightning. Just silence, deep and final. A knowing in her bones.

She stood up, brushed the leaves from her skirt, and walked away from the tree and Joe.

The breakup wasn't dramatic. Lisa didn't yell or cry. She simply called Joe and told him it was over.

He didn't fight it.

"Wow," he said after a long pause. "So you're just... done?"

"Yes," she said softly. "I need to be okay again."

There was silence. Then he hung up.

Lisa set the phone down, her heart pounding, expecting the pain to rush in like a tide. But instead, she felt... clear. Raw, but steady.

But the quiet didn't last.

Two hours later, her phone buzzed. It was Joe.

Joe: "Please. Don't do this. You're overthinking things. We've just been going through a rough patch."

Lisa stared at the message for a long moment before responding.

Lisa: "I'm not overthinking. I've been underfeeding for too long."

Joe: "I know I haven't been perfect. But I can change. You just have to give me time. Please, Lisa."

He called that evening.

"Lisa, please. Don't throw us away. You mean everything to me," he pleaded. "I know I messed up. I didn't realize how distant I'd gotten. But I swear, things will be different."

"You've said that before," Lisa said, her voice low.

"I mean it this time. I was just overwhelmed. School... pressure... I didn't know how to juggle everything. But I can fix this."

"You can't fix what's already broken if you don't see the cracks," she said. "You didn't listen when I needed you. You didn't show up for me."

Joe's tone hardened slightly, trying a new tactic. "Are you going to throw away 11 months over a few mistakes?"

"This isn't about one mistake," Lisa replied. "It's about a pattern. One I kept ignoring."

He sighed heavily. "Okay. Fine. I'll come over. We'll talk in person."

"No," she said firmly. "There's nothing more to talk about."

But he wouldn't stop.

The next day, he showed up outside her dorm with a small bouquet of wilted roses.

"I know you're mad," he said as she opened the gate. "But look at me, Lisa. Look at us. We've been through so much. Don't let one bad season kill what we have."

She stepped outside, folding her arms. "You think this is just one bad season?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, moving closer. "I just... I was stupid. I thought you'd always be there."

"And that's exactly the problem," she whispered. "You took me for granted."

"I can be better. I'll skip classes if you want. I'll cancel everything. I'll do anything. Just don't leave."

For a split second, she almost faltered. His eyes, the way he looked at her, like she was his lifeline.

But then she remembered. The birthdays were spent alone. The unanswered calls. The night he forgot Valentine's Day.

"No, Joe," she said quietly. "I don't want you to change for me. I want to leave because I need to change for myself."

He looked stunned, as if he hadn't expected her to hold her ground.

"I gave you everything," he said bitterly. "And you're still walking away."

"No," she said. "I gave you everything. And now I'm taking it back."

She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there with the roses hanging limply in his hands.

Lisa cried that night, but they were healing tears, cleansing tears. The kind that made room for strength.

In time, she stopped blaming herself. She learned to say no, to set boundaries, to trust her gut.

And one day, she looked in the mirror and smiled-not because someone else loved her, but because she loved herself.

Loved herself.

And this time, it wasn't a fairytale.

It was real.