I knew that it would end sooner or later. I feel rejected, in spite of my mental preparations. The housemate, she goes with him. Of course. It was inevitable.
It wasn’t supposed to happen now.
My therapist tells me to stay with my emotions. I’m sad, rejected, disappointed, I feel bad about all the things we were going to do together when I got better.
I’m getting better. The presence of the hurt of this kind of loss has become a comfort. I told her I supported her decision, and that she should be with who she wants to be with. Of course. I wished her luck.
I had a hard time looking at her, and I didn’t touch her once. When she turned to go back into the car, I rose and walked back inside the house. I didn’t watch her go. I’d known for some time; she was gone.