Your First Love Can Keep You

After Declan secretly drove Marissa home for what felt like the hundredth time, I was done.

A bone-deep, marrow-sucking exhaustion washed over me. I told him it was over.

He buried his face in his hands, playing the tortured victim.

Just because I gave her a ride?

What exactly do I have to do for you to be satisfied, Paige?

"Were in the same department. Its a professional requirement. I cant just cut her out of my life."

I stared at the tube of lip gloss tucked beneath the passenger seat. A harsh, hollow laugh scraped its way up my throat.

"Is it because shes a colleague that you can't cut her off?" I asked softly. "Or is it because she was your first love?"

01

I was so incredibly tired.

Maybe this psychological fatigue had been festering since the day Declan brought the wrong bag home.

Declan owned a faded, charcoal-gray canvas messenger bag that hed lugged around for over a decade. He claimed it was a relic from his high school debate teamsturdy, utilitarian, indestructible. From high school to undergrad, through his PhD, and straight into his tenure-track position at the university, he had a habit of stuffing it with lecture notes and grant proposals.

We had been together for seven years. I knew the geography of Declans life like the back of my hand. That included the frayed edges of that canvas bag.

So, the evening he tossed it onto the entryway bench, the smudge on the strap caught my eye immediately.

"When did you get nail polish on your bag?"

The sound of running water from the bathroom made his voice sound fragmented, distant. "Huh? What do you mean?"

I held up the strap, pointing to a tiny, dark smear catching the hall light. "Look. Its black, but its got glitter in it. You only see it when the light hits it."

He took the bag, angling it under the pendant light. He unzipped the main compartment, peeked inside, and let out a heavy, exasperated sigh.

"I see. This is Marissas bag. She must have grabbed mine by mistake."

"Marissa?"

Declan didn't miss a beat. "The new adjunct in our department. We actually went to high school together."

I nodded, piecing it together. "So she has the same debate team bag."

At the time, I thought it was just a cute coincidence, a shared piece of alumni nostalgia.

I wouldn't find out until much later that fifteen years ago, they had swapped these exact bags by mistake. That the hazy, intoxicating rush of their teenage romance had sparked from that very mix-up.

Sturdy. Built to withstand the test of time.

Not just the canvas bags. But the unresolved, tragic romance of the girl who got away.

02

Declans face went rigid.

"You knew we dated in high school?"

I rolled the lip gloss between my fingers, letting out a quiet breath. "It would take a miracle not to know, Declan. Im not blind."

He lowered his eyes. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"When did you find out?"

I tilted my head, studying the stranger sitting in my living room. "Does it matter?"

"Are you trying to figure out where the leak was? Run a post-mortem on your strategy so the next lie is airtight?"

I couldn't keep the venom out of my voice. "When you, Marissa, and Kelsey were all coordinating your stories to keep me in the dark, did you hold weekly departmental meetings about it? Like you do with your lab data?"

"Tell me, Declan. As my boyfriend, and as my supposed best friend, did it give you a thrill to stand on Marissas side of the line and make a fool out of me?"

Declan took a sharp, suffering breath, the picture of a man pushed to his limits. "How many times do I have to say it? We didn't team up to lie to you!"

It was laughable.

"Are you an idiot, Declan, or do you just think I am?"

03

For months, Marissas name had been a constant hum in the background of my life.

They shared a faculty office. They were both the university's rising stars in the department. They shared a hometown, a high school, a history.

Whether it was the dean assigning them joint research projects or the undergrads gossiping in the corridors, the world seemed determined to tether them together. Marissa was woven so tightly into the fabric of Declans career that he couldn't even tell me about his Tuesday without mentioning her.

Naturally, I grew curious about her.

But I was naive. I brought a gentle, friendly curiosity to the table, entirely unaware that she brought an arsenal of quiet, malicious exclusion.

And Declan? He played the blind man.

He couldn't see Marissas calculated toxicity. He couldn't see her ulterior motives. He simply let her bulldoze right past every boundary a man in a seven-year relationship should have.

It started small.

His undergrads, oblivious and eager, would joke about how perfect Professor Shaw and Professor Howell looked together. He never corrected them.

Then, it escalated.

He began driving her home every single day. He looked me in the eye and swore he was keeping his promise to methat outside of faculty meetings, he had zero contact with her.

Then came my suspicions. When I casually asked about the mythical, devoted high school boyfriend Marissa loved to brag about, Declan lied again. He claimed he hadn't really paid attention to her dating life back then.

And then there was Kelsey.

My college roommate. The woman I considered my chosen sister.

To my face, she played the peacemaker, urging me to give Declan the benefit of the doubt, telling me I was letting my insecurities win. Behind my back, she was the bridge connecting them. She curated group hangouts, manufactured excuses for them to be together, and played lookout.

Time and time again, I swallowed my discomfort. I choked down my grievances.

I gave Declan my grace, and I gave Kelsey my trust. And they took those gifts, sharpened them into blades, and gutted me.

04

"I explained everything you were upset about, didn't I?"

Declans jaw clenched. His tone was drenched in genuine bewilderment.

I stared at him, marveling at the fact that I had loved this man for the better part of a decade.

"Your students joke that you two are soulmates, and did you ever shut it down?"

"You and Marissa just exchange those little smiles and let them whisper. You never deny it. You never set the record straight. But you come home and tell me Im overreacting, that Im inventing ghosts."

"You promised me you wouldn't interact with her outside of work, yet youre playing her personal chauffeur every afternoon."

"You come home smelling like her perfume, and you look me in the eye and lie!"

Declans brow furrowed, his voice rising to match mine. "Because the second her name comes up, you lose your mind! I couldn't tell you the truth because youre impossible to talk to!"

He caught himself, swallowing his temper, and shifted into damage control.

"If we break up, what are we supposed to tell your parents?"

"Your dads heart isn't great, Paige. Your mom has been waiting for us to pick a wedding venue. Its been seven years. Are you really going to throw all of this away over a misunderstanding?"

My hands froze.

When my dad started showing the warning signs of a mini-stroke two years ago, Declan was the one who caught it. He drove him to the ER. Because of that, my parents didn't just love him; they owed him. They felt a profound, unbreakable gratitude toward him, frequently hinting that we shouldn't wait much longer to tie the knot.

If I walked away now, how would it break them?

"Paige, baby, lets just stop fighting, okay?"

Declan dropped his voice an octave, slipping into that soft, velvet tone he knew I loved.

"If youre really this insecure about it, come to the high school alumni dinner this Saturday with me."

"See for yourself. See how we interact. Youll realize youve built this whole thing up in your head. Okay?"

05

I went to the dinner.

Somewhere, buried deep in the bruised tissue of my heart, a pathetic little ember of hope still flickered.

You don't just sever a seven-year bond like a loose thread. Once the blinding red rage faded, the memories crept back in. The years of being adored, of being prioritized, of laughing until my ribs ached in his kitchen.

Those ghosts coaxed me into trying one last time. Give him the chance to prove me wrong.

I wanted him to evolve. I wanted him to finally look at me and understand the exact shape of my pain.

From the moment we walked into the private dining room, Declan kept his fingers interlaced with mine, holding on tight.

"Hey, class prez is here! And who is this gorgeous woman?" a guy greeted us, his smile wide and genuine.

Declan didn't hesitate. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Paige."

"Leave it to Shaw to pull someone completely out of his league."

Declans lips twitched upward into a proud, devastatingly familiar smile. "Im a lucky guy, what can I say?"

The table erupted into good-natured cheers.

For a dizzying second, I felt like I was time-traveling. I was back in our mid-twenties, back when we first became an 'us,' insulated and untouchable.

Something tight in my chest went soft.

Maybe coming here was the right move.

06

For the first hour, Declan was a man of his word.

He was hyper-attuned to me. If anyone brought up an inside joke that left me out, he smoothly derailed the conversation, redirecting it to something inclusive.

I watched him navigate the room, charming and attentive.

The coiled spring in my chest began to unwind.

Then, the heavy oak doors swung open.

Marissa.

She drifted into the room, dispensing gentle, practiced smiles to everyone who called her name. Taking the empty seat right beside Declan seemed like nothing more than an innocent coincidence.

Instinctively, Declan shifted his chair to give her more room.

Before she even sat fully down, he reached across the table, picked up the wine glass set at her place setting, and swapped it with a tumbler of warm water.

"Your stomach has been acting up. Skip the Pinot tonight," he murmured.

The intimacy in his hushed voice was a physical blow. The movement was fluid, unconscious, lacking even a fraction of a second of hesitation. It was muscle memory.

"Man, you two never change," the guy across from them laughed. "Remember when you guys swapped those debate bags senior year? Swear to God, you were the IT couple..."

The guy next to him sharply elbowed his ribs, gesturing wildly with his eyes toward me.

"Oh, uh, my bad. But hey, Shaws girlfriend doesn't look like the type to sweat ancient history, right?"

Declan said nothing.

He didn't agree. He didn't deny it.

He just laughed easily and pivoted the conversation, exactly like he had done for me all night.

The soft, hopeful thing in my chest crystallized into ice.

He was right. I was never the type to sweat ancient history. So who turned me into this paranoid, score-keeping shadow of myself?

I turned slightly to Kelsey, who was seated on my left.

"You see it, right?" I whispered. "You see how he is with her?"

"Do you still think Im just being sensitive?"

I waited for her answer. I was offering up the pulse of our friendship, waiting to see if she would save it or let it bleed out.

Kelseys brow furrowed in fierce annoyance.

"Declan is already walking on eggshells, Paige. Hes barely even looked at her tonight."

"Do you have to be so exhausting? Theyre old friends. What do you want him to do, build a Berlin Wall between them so you can feel secure?"

She didn't offer a single word of comfort. She just leaned forward, catching Marissas eye, and launched into an animated conversation about her new earrings.

Seeing my expression, Declan frowned and reached out to brush my arm. "Hey. Whats with the face?"

His eyes flicked down, finally registering the full glass of Cabernet sitting untouched in front of me. "Are you feeling sick? If youre not feeling well, you really shouldn't drink."

Two glasses of wine.

When it belonged to her, he preemptively removed the danger. When it sat in front of me, it was practically invisible until I inconvenienced him with a bad mood.

It was a sick joke.

"I did everything you asked," he whispered, his tone edging into frustration. "Why are you still punishing me?"

I looked at him. The urge to explain myself, to communicate, evaporated entirely.

His "boundaries" were just theatrical performances put on for my benefit.

His "compromises" were just a chore, a tax he paid to keep me quiet.

From start to finish, he never felt my grief.

Because his emotional real estate was already occupied. By a ghost he didn't even have to consciously think about to protect. Someone who had a VIP pass to his instincts, someone who naturally bypassed the line and stood at the very front of his heart.

07

Love gave me my answer.

Now, it was time to put Friendship on the chopping block.

It took three separate attempts before Kelsey finally agreed to meet me for lunch.

She slid into the booth opposite me, radiating impatience. "Whats so urgent? Couldn't we just FaceTime later?"

I took a slow, steadying breath.

I thought about the last few months. When I asked her out on weekdays, she was drowning in deadlines. On weekends, she was burnt out, needing a "rot day."

Yet, my Instagram feed was constantly updated with photos of her at brunch, at wine bars, at spin classes with other girls.

It seemed like no matter what day of the week I chose, it was the exact day she lacked the time, the energy, or the desire to exist in my orbit.

I gave a dry laugh. "When exactly is 'later,' Kelsey? Because it feels like whenever I ask, youre magically booked solid."

Kelseys gaze flicked away, a telltale sign of her guilt, before she forced a defensive glare. "What are you talking about? I would never avoid you!"

"Were best friends."

Best friends. I rolled the words around in my head. They tasted like ash.

"If you really consider me your best friend," I said quietly, "then why did you play matchmaker for your 'best friends' boyfriend and another woman?"

Kelseys face hardened instantly. "Is this about Declan and Marissa again?"

"Jesus, Paige, why are you like a dog with a bone? Youre so paranoid!"

"When did I ever play matchmaker? Youre just hypersensitive. You project your insecurities onto everything everyone does!"

Watching her put on this ferocious, self-righteous act, I felt a strange, chilling calm settle over me.

"You didn't?"

"Then why didn't you tell me Marissa was his high school sweetheart the day she was hired?"

"Why did you laugh along with the rest of the faculty when they made jokes about them dating, knowing full well he came home to me every night?"

"Youre close friends with both of them. When you laugh at those jokes, it validates the rumors. It tells the world theres a spark there. Are you going to sit there and tell me you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

"I..." Kelsey opened her mouth, scrambling for a lifeline.

But I didn't want to hear it.

I had waited in the dark for her explanations for so long. I had starved waiting for her loyalty. And all she ever fed me was gaslighting.

I just wanted to purge the poison from my system.

"I came to you, crying, telling you Declan had no boundaries with her."

"And knowing exactly how much it was destroying me, you suggested he drive both of you home from happy hour. And you made sure he dropped you off first, leaving them alone in the car."

"What was the goal, Kels? Make sure they had thirty minutes of uninterrupted time in the dark to trauma-bond?"

"At first, Declan felt guilty. He knew it crossed a line. But you were the one who told him it was fine. You told him that since you were there, it wasn't a 'solo hangout,' right?"

Tears blurred my vision, hot and humiliating.

It wasn't just that she chose Marissa over me. The knife twisted deeper because of a much colder truth.

"You stopped being my friend a long time ago, didn't you?"

I knew Kelsey.

"Even if I were just an acquaintance to you, you have too much pride to be an accomplice to an affair. You only did it because I ceased to matter to you at all."

08

"Youre right."

Kelseys voice was stripped of all its frantic defensiveness. The silence that followed was heavy and metallic.

"I don't consider you my friend anymore."

She looked at me, her face a mask of cool indifference. "So, helping my actual friend get what she wants? Yeah. Id say thats pretty justified."

Memories hit me like a physical blow.

Our cramped sophomore dorm room. Eating takeout on the floor. Walking aimlessly around campus at midnight, dissecting our fears, our messy breakups, our chaotic futures.

She knew my deepest insecurities. I knew the fragile ego beneath her armor.

Then came grad school. The corporate world. The slow, agonizing fade of her affection.

I used to tell myself it was just adulthood. People get busy. People get tired. I just needed to try harder. Be more accommodating. Be the low-maintenance friend.

I bled myself dry trying to water a dead plant.

Until she started building a bridge between the man I loved and the woman who wanted him.

Until this very second.

When she sat across from me and admitted that my heart had simply been collateral damage in her game.

09

I tilted my head up, refusing to let the tears fall.

Kelseys jaw was set tight. Not a flicker of remorse behind her eyes.

"Then this is where we get off," I whispered, swallowing the jagged rock in my throat.

"From this second on, whatever you do, whatever happens to youits none of my business."

I slid out of the booth. "You probably don't care, but for the record? Declan and I are done."

"I hope you and your friend finally get everything you deserve."

10

I had intended to dump Declan to his face.

It was the respectful thing to do, for him, and for the seven years we built.

But seven o'clock came and went. Then eight. He wasn't home.

Where are you? We need to talk. Its important.

Half an hour later, his reply popped onto my screen.

Marissa got super sick. I had to take her to the ER.

Is it an emergency? Just hold on, let me get her admitted and I'll head back.

It was the final nail in the coffin.

I wanted to end this with grace. With quiet, adult dignity.

So I replied: Okay. Ill wait.

But midnight struck, and the front door remained shut.

In that quiet, dark living room, the tether snapped. The obsession, the anxiety, the desperate need for closureit all evaporated into the ether.

There was nothing left to say. There was no point in looking at his face one last time.

I pulled my suitcase from the hall closet, packed the essentials, and ordered an Uber.

As the car pulled away from the curb, I sent Declan Shaw one final text.

Were done.