The image of Flora tearfully slamming the door in my face would haunt me for many months to come. I had handled that awfully, and we were broken up before I even told her the real reason. I was so angry I let myself get sidetracked.

You cheated on me. You broke my heart.

Eight simple words. Would it hurt more to say it out loud? The words wormed their way through the silence in the car, then started buzzing and flapping like the wings of an insect. You lied. You cheated. You hurt me. I watched Flora stomping away and for a brief moment I thought of stopping her.

I don't want to break up, I begged at her retreating figure, but I was too proud for that. She was wearing red, my favorite color on her, and like a flame going out she vanished from my eyes and out of my life.

Why did I have to see it? I wished I never knew. I wished I could backtrack to the night before, and I would stay home and convince myself that I was just being paranoid, that Flora was really out with her girlfriends. I knew I couldn't, however, because this is the way relationships are.

When do you know that you lost someone?

You just know.

It was the perturbing way she refused to answer my calls. How she insisted on a Cold War when she was usually eager to get past any fight. The way she giggled and slurred into the phone, drunk without question, and how the familiar echo in her room and the stillness in the background gave her away. I had known right away she was at home.

I had told myself to let it go, but half an hour later I was parking my car close to her building, and that was when I realized how creepy I was acting with my stakeout act. I wasn't like this. I always gave my girlfriend the benefit of doubt, but on that fateful night I chose to trust my gut instinct.

I had sat behind the steering wheel and stared at the front door to her building, pondering about my next move, scared to face what I would find. Should I go up and ring her doorbell? Should I forget it and go back?

I called her again. She didn't pick up.

Then it happened. I saw Flora floating down the flight of stairs to her building, accompanied by Raymond Corbett. They were both wasted. They could barely walk as they staggered down the steps, clutching their sides and laughing like they were having a private party.

It unfolded before my eyes slowly and deliberately. I was destined to see this, to find out like this.

I knew they had been calling each other a lot but I never really suspected she was cheating on me. She told me he was fun and hilarious, and I understood the subtext. He was the complete opposite of me and he was able to offer her what I couldn't.

But I'm a good boyfriend, I found myself bargaining. I tried my best and still I wasn't good enough for her.

Raymond hugged her. He kissed her. Flora smiled. She looked as beautiful as she always did, but at the moment it wasn't for me.

I sat there unable to drive away, long after she had gone back up. My fingers ached from gripping too tightly onto the steering wheel. The oxygen in the car was sucked out and I was breathing too hard. I had to concentrate on breathing so I could save myself from my thoughts.

I would try to pinpoint what I felt later on, but I couldn't come up with anything. Upset? Angry? Shocked? Humiliated? Not really any of these. I only felt numbness. I felt nothingness, and this nothingness was unbearably stifling.

I let her dazzle me, and this was what I got for not going with my better judgment. As unsettling as my discovery was, for some reason I didn't find it unanticipated. Deep down I always knew this was going to happen, from the first day I decided to go out with her. This was like my dog dying when I was in third grade. This was like my granddad getting the diagnosis back from the doctor that he had a clogged coronary artery.

This was my worst fear, confirmed.

I had driven home, only to wake up the next day feeling as if I had a bad dream that lingered over my head. Initially I was upset that my physics exam had to clash with Flora's plan for us, but life was unexpected, and I was truly glad I had something else to concentrate on. For three hours, anyway. Sunday morning I focused completely on my exam and was relieved knowing that there was at least something in life that I had total control over.

After the exam was over, I called Flora and told her I wanted to see her. She agreed, chirpy without a tinge of guilt, and said she was ready to forgive me. Something soft in me vaporized, and all that was left was cold and metal.

I didn't really want to end things with her. I offered her a chance to explain what was going on with Raymond Corbett. She disappointed me again by lying to my face, although to be fair I wouldn't have accepted any of her excuses.

I knew the right way to handle a situation like this. The mature way. I should confront her and talk it over, but my epinephrine had surged and landed me in a classic fight or flight situation. Face it or run away. I chose to run away and avoid further humiliation. I couldn't let her see how much she had damaged me.

I didn't want to know how long it had been going on. I didn't want her to lie to me again. I didn't want to find out how much our relationship had meant to her, and if Flora had loved me at all.

I wasn't sure if I loved her until now. I had never said it, and now that I lost her, an unwelcoming yet prominent hollowness chewed its way around me. All the submerged feelings yesterday surfaced and I felt upset and angry and humiliated and most of all exhausted.

I drove home and slept.

***