The Day After Valentine's
3 min read · Anonymous · Premium
I remember the exact moment my world tilted. It was February 15th, and I was sitting on a bench in the Jardin des Tuileries, watching a cluster of children chase pigeons. The grey Parisian sky hung low, mirroring the weight in my chest. I had been in France for three months, surviving on croissants and weekly FaceTime calls with Leo, my boyfriend of five years back in Chicago. We had promised this semester would fly by, that distance was just a test we'd ace. I still believed that when my phone buzzed with his name.
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