The Monday morning rush hour had you leaving your home extra early. Though you begrudgingly left the comfort of your warm bed, by five-thirty you were already at the bus stop, getting on board the first trip of the day.
Last weekend was fun and productive. You caught the Sunday matinée of the show you'd been looking forward to watching and you were able to complete a solid month of evening runs.
On Sunday night, just before you went to bed, you decided to scroll through Instagram. You realize now that it wasn't the best way to end the great weekend you had, because just as you had nearly called it a day, a post on your feed caught your eye.
One of your friends from a theater production you joined years ago announced the engagement of your ex, celebrating him and his fiancée in the Instagram post. It was funny, your friend said, how the lovely couple had met each other on the internet and hit it off.
Against your better judgement, you pored over the meaningful caption and found yourself staring at the obviously very happy couple.
There's no use getting upset over this now, you reminded yourself. After all, we both knew what we had left behind...and we agreed it was the wisest choice.
You met him in a theater production where you performed as part of the ensemble and he was the composer. Your seven-year relationship felt like home and for the longest time, you were both on the same wavelength. You were assured that you had each other's support so neither was afraid to achieve greater things.
You didn't exactly know how it started, but just before your eighth anniversary, your relationship got uncomfortable, then frustrating, and finally unbearable. The little details that hadn't bothered you before became issues that caused arguments.
You both loved your work in the theater. He in particular showed relentless perseverance, and he was rewarded for it. Soon he had adventures of his own that made you genuinely happy for him, but left you feeling alone.
The industry is notorious for being almost always hectic and demanding. It had put a wedge between your time together, and eventually your whole relationship.
The rupture came, and both of you failed to repair it.
We tried to work things out. God knows we did, you reasoned. But your long conversations only revealed your disagreements. Neither was willing to give in, so the discussions turned into full-blown arguments, adding to the long list of ruptures in your relationship.
You didn't know when things had changed, or how it all started. For months after your mutual decision to break up you racked your brain, trying to pinpoint a specific time within your seven years when the cracks had started to appear.
Yet all you could remember were the good times. He could have been the one, you thought wistfully. He had to be — he had everything you ever wanted for a life partner. But now he has found someone better, maybe even perfect, for him. And it wasn't you.
You knew deep down that you're all right now. You're moving forward with life, even pursuing a new career that you realized you enjoyed more than theater. You've moved on...for the most part.
If you're honest with yourself, a little part of you still wants to ask him: if one thing — anything at all — had been different about your relationship, would he have stayed, too?
But you persist to resist the temptation to ask, because you already knew the answer. If he really wanted you to be his endgame, he would have shown it. And you would have done the same.
Oh, you knew that what you had was something. You certainly made it count. And if all your wishes came true, it would have been him. I guess we'll never know, you mused.
The bus slowed to a stop and jolted you out of your reverie. Coming back to your reality, you found yourself smiling. Not all was lost. There is still a world out there waiting for you to conquer.
But it sure would have been fun, if he would've been the one.