My Own Mountain

Eric and I grew up together. We were inseparable for fifteen years. Yet, the very next day after we finally made our relationship official, he dumped me without a single warning.

I could never understand why.

To win him back, I threw away every ounce of my dignity. I begged. I pleaded. I spiraled into such a terrifying, destructive breakdown that it nearly cost me my life.

He remained completely indifferent.

It was not until five years later, at our university alumni gala, that he finally confessed the truth.

"You announced our relationship on social media without my permission," he said, swirling the wine in his glass. "That is why I wanted to break up."

"I thought I was just being overly sensitive at the time."

"But looking back, I was genuinely uncomfortable. I felt like you did not respect me."

I stared at him, my face completely blank.

"Over something that trivial?"

He lifted his chin, his tone entirely self-righteous.

"Yes. Over something that trivial."

I gave a slow, detached nod. I understood now.

I turned on my heel to leave.

But Eric frowned and stepped in my path, blocking my way.

"Are you not going to apologize to me?"

"If you show a good attitude, I might consider getting back together with you."

My thumb brushed against the diamond ring on my left hand. I did not say a word.

It had been five years.

Who in their right mind would still be standing in the exact same place?

When my silence stretched on, Erics limited patience quickly evaporated.

He pointed a finger at me, his voice dropping to a freezing chill.

"Margaret, is it really that hard for you to just say you are sorry?"

"Do you want to get back together or not!"

I glanced at Valerie, who was leaning intimately against his side. I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought.

But Valerie suddenly released Erics arm and took a timid step backward.

"Eric, I think Margaret is refusing to apologize because I am here."

Erics brow furrowed. He immediately reached out, pulling Valerie back into his embrace, his voice instantly softening into a gentle coax.

"This has nothing to do with you. She has always been unstable."

He turned his glaring eyes back to me. "It has been five years. How much longer are you going to be paranoid about me and Valerie?"

He did not lower his voice at all.

In an instant, half the banquet hall turned to look in our direction.

Seeing me standing opposite Eric, a wave of pity washed over the crowd's faces.

But the pity was not for me.

It was for Eric.

After all, my breakdown five years ago had been spectacularly ugly. The police had to pull me off a bridge. It made local news.

Everyone thought it was a terrible tragedy that a calm, reserved, successful man like Eric had been targeted by a crazy, obsessive woman like me.

Amidst the low murmurs, I could hear the echoes of the insults they used to hurl at me.

"How is Margaret not locked up yet?"

The crystal champagne flute in my hand turned freezing cold. A violent shiver racked my body.

Terrified of having a panic attack in public, I shoved past Eric. I practically ran to the restrooms, stumbling blindly until I reached a sink.

I threw up until my stomach was completely empty.

Staring at my pale, sickly reflection in the mirror, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Five years, and I was still this pathetic.

A sharp knock echoed against the bathroom door.

Erics voice filtered through the wood, sounding rigid and awkward.

"Are you alright?"

"Valerie went to find a doctor for you. If you are still sick in the head, why did you even show up tonight?"

Why?

I stared quietly at the woman in the mirror.

Because I honestly thought I was cured.

I had vastly underestimated the psychological hold Eric still had on me. Just hearing his voice triggered a suffocating, breathless panic in my chest.

I curled in on myself against the cold marble sink. I forced my mind to focus on the warmth and peace I had found over the last few years, fighting down the venomous resentment burning in my throat.

"Get lost," I croaked out, my voice ragged.

The hallway went dead silent for a second.

Then, Eric slammed his fist against the door.

"Are you out of your mind, Margaret?! Did you just tell me to get lost?"

"Did five years teach you absolutely nothing!"

I scoffed, aggressively wiping away the stinging tears in the corners of my eyes.

I almost forgot.

Eric was no longer that shy, highly sensitive college boy.

Back then, whenever he spoke to anyone other than me, his face would flush red, and he would stutter nervously.

Now, he was polished and polite. He charmed the room, the absolute picture of a successful gentleman.

But the second he dealt with me, he reverted to his arrogant, reckless self.

He operated under the delusion that I was still the old Margaret, the girl who would endlessly tolerate his temper tantrums and fragile ego.

My phone vibrated wildly in my clutch.

It was a text from my husband, asking when the event was ending so he could come pick me up.

The suffocating shadows in my mind were instantly bathed in sunlight.

The terrifying edge of a panic attack melted away.

I took a deep, steadying breath. I prepared to record a voice note telling him everything was fine.

But the bathroom door was suddenly kicked open.

Eric stood in the doorway with Valerie hovering behind him. His pupils contracted when he saw me leaning over the sink, my face damp with cold water.

Without thinking, he shrugged off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders.

"If you feel sick, you go see a doctor!" he snapped.

"What good does hiding in the bathroom do?"

The heavy, intoxicating scent of Armani Th Yulong washed over me.

For a split second, I felt dizzy.

I could not believe he had worn the exact same cologne for five straight years.

On the very first day we officially started dating, I bought him a bottle of that Armani fragrance.

I told him it was my favorite scent in the world.

He smiled at me, his eyes full of devotion.

"Then I will wear this exact scent for the rest of my life. Deal?"

But the very next day, right after he casually ended our relationship, he smashed that heavy glass bottle against the floor right in front of my eyes.

I snapped back to reality. I shoved Eric away, grabbing his jacket and tossing it right back into his chest.

"Thanks for the concern."

"But my husband is coming to pick me up soon. I will just have him take me to the hospital."

I did not say it to show off. I was not trying to get revenge.

I just needed him to understand.

We were history.

Erics entire body went rigid. He stared at me in absolute shock, his voice cracking.

"You got married?!"

I gave a simple nod, raising my left hand to flash the diamond ring on my finger.

I turned to walk past him.

But Eric grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand up. He stared at the diamond for a long, agonizing moment before letting out a cold, mocking sneer.

He forcefully yanked the ring off my finger and tossed it onto the tiled floor.

"What the hell are you doing!"

My calm facade shattered. I dropped to my knees, desperately reaching for the ring.

Before my fingers could brush the metal, a polished leather shoe stepped down hard, grinding the silver and diamond into the floor.

Eric gripped my wrist, pulling me up. His tone was dripping with smug satisfaction.

"Drop the act, Margaret. I know you are not married."

"You are a clinically unstable mess with a family history of mental breakdowns. Aside from me, what man on earth would ever love you?"

I struggled to push him away, kneeling on the cold floor.

Hearing his words, I just found it incredibly funny.

"Are you implying that you actually love me, Eric?"

He froze. An awkward, uncomfortable expression crossed his face before he rubbed the back of his neck, reluctantly admitting it.

"We grew up together. Obviously, I care about you more than anyone else."

"But you know how sensitive I am. I just could not stop overthinking. I kept wondering if you actually loved me."

"When you rushed to announce our relationship, I felt disrespected. I felt like you did not love me enough. That is why I broke it off."

It took him five years to finally figure it out.

And now he was back, offering me the grand prize of getting back together.

I stared dead into his eyes, letting out a soft, mocking laugh.

"No. You never loved me."

"If you did, you would not have dropped me cold turkey. And you definitely would not have been laying in the same bed with Valerie while I was outside begging for you back."

"The truth is, you love Valerie way more than you ever loved me. Right?"

The memory was burned into my brain forever.

I remembered running to his apartment, desperate to fix things, only to find the sickening sight of him and Valerie lounging together.

On the first day of our relationship, I had asked to go to his place to cook a romantic dinner.

He refused. He told me someone was crashing at his place and it was inconvenient.

I assumed it was one of his frat brothers.

I never imagined it was Valerie.

I stood up and drove the heel of my red stiletto right into Erics shin.

As he hissed in pain and lifted his leg, I quickly snatched my ring off the floor. I wiped it carefully against my dress, my voice dead calm.

"So spare me the bullshit about how much you love me."

"It makes me sick."

I slid the ring back onto my finger.

I completely ignored Eric, whose face looked like he was about to commit murder.

I bypassed him and Valerie, walking straight back into the banquet hall. I planned to say a quick goodbye to the host and leave.

But Valerie suddenly grabbed a random guest and blocked my path, projecting a sickly sweet aura of false concern.

"Oh my gosh, Margaret was having a terrible episode in the bathroom just now! She looked like she was in so much pain."

"Our friend here is a psychiatrist. Why don't we let him take a look at you!"

She purposefully pitched her voice loud enough to grab the entire room's attention again.

Countless pairs of judging, maliciously curious eyes locked onto me.

I frowned in deep discomfort.

"I do not need help. I am fine."

Valerie took a step closer, pretending to be a caring friend.

"Do not hide your illness, Margaret. You were so delusional just now you actually rejected Erics offer to get back together. How can you say you are fine?"

She reached out to grab my arm.

Pure reflex kicked in. I violently swatted her hand away.

A second later, Valerie let out a dramatic shriek and stumbled backward, crashing directly into a massive champagne tower on the nearby table.

Deafening glass shattered in every direction.

Before I could process what happened, Eric shoved me hard in the chest. I lost my footing and crashed onto the floor, directly into the puddle of alcohol and broken glass. Black spots danced across my vision from the pain.

Erics furious, biting voice echoed above me.

"You really have lost your mind again, Margaret!"

The entire hall fell dead silent, paralyzed by the sudden chaos.

Erics accusation hung crystal clear in the air.

Everyone stared at me in shock, their eyes looking at me like I was radioactive waste. The whispers started instantly.

"Why would they let a psycho into the alumni gala?"

"Someone call the hospital and have them drag this crazy bitch out of here."

"I feel so bad for Eric and Valerie. If I were them, I would have cut ties with a freak like Margaret years ago."

Every single mistake. Every single accident.

Somehow, it was always my fault.

The emotional stability I had fought so hard to build began to crack.

I took a ragged, desperate breath, slowly pushing myself off the floor. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run.

But Eric grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

"You think you can just walk away after hurting Valerie?"

"When did you become so completely irresponsible!"

I curled my fingers into fists to hide how violently my hands were shaking. I forced myself to look at him.

"Tell me how much you want. I will pay for the damages."

Erics jaw tightened. Before he could speak, Valerie started sobbing, complaining about the pain in her ankle.

He immediately scooped her up into his arms, shooting me a look of pure disgust, ordering me to follow them to the hospital.

He completely failed to notice the deep gash on my calf, blood steadily pouring down my leg from a jagged piece of glass.

My face was devoid of emotion as I reached down and pulled the shard of glass out of my own skin.

I limped my way out to the parking lot.

Eric gently placed Valerie in the passenger seat of his car. She put up a pathetic, fake struggle.

"This is Margarets seat. I should sit in the back."

Eric pushed her back down into the leather seat and buckled her in himself.

"Do not worry about meaningless rules. She does not care about things like that anymore."

I kept pressure on my bleeding leg. I did not bother arguing.

Five years ago, on the day we started dating, I had set a strict boundary with Eric.

No other woman was ever allowed to sit in his passenger seat.

He promised me instantly.

But the very next day, when he initiated our breakup, he suffered total amnesia regarding that promise.

He put Valerie in his passenger seat, exactly like he was doing right now.

And he did it just to take her to the movies.

Valerie looked at me through the open window, her face a mask of frightened innocence as she apologized.

I ignored her completely. I pulled out my phone, pulled up my banking app, and shoved the screen toward Eric.

"Give me your payment code. I will transfer the money to cover her medical bill right now."

Eric frowned, opening his mouth to reprimand me.

Then, his eyes dropped. He finally noticed my leg, coated in fresh blood. His breath hitched.

"You are bleeding that much and you did not say a word?!"

"Are you an idiot, Margaret?!"

Before I could answer, he grabbed me around the waist, practically throwing me into the backseat of the car and slamming the buckle into place.

Right behind Valeries seat.

In Erics world, I would always rank second to Valerie.

The child safety locks clicked into place. I had zero chance of getting out.

I demanded he let me out of the car.

He let out a low, frustrated sigh.

"Be good. Stop acting crazy. We are going to the hospital to get those cuts cleaned up."

The jealousy radiating from Valerie in the front seat was palpable.

I stared blankly at the city lights blurring past the window. I did not speak another word.

When we arrived at the emergency room, Eric reverted to form. He completely forgot about me.

He sprinted out of the car, carrying Valerie in his arms as he rushed toward the sliding doors like she was dying of a terminal illness.

I was left locked in the back.

His parting words were simply, "I will come back to carry you in a minute."

Then he vanished.

A full hour passed. Then two.

The air in the sealed car grew dangerously thin. I gasped for breath, feeling the panic rising in my throat.

I dialed 911 with shaking fingers.

While I waited for the police, I frantically searched the backseat for something heavy to break the glass.

I reached over the seat into the trunk area. I found a cardboard box packed full of my old things.

My old makeup. Skincare I used to leave in his glovebox.

And a gift I had given him.

A violin.

Eric was a music major. The violin was his absolute mastery.

Years ago, he had played a solo in the courtyard that made every girl on campus swoon.

I was one of them.

I bought this violin for his birthday during the first year I realized I was in love with him.

On the day of our breakup, right after he shattered my perfume bottle, he marched outside and threw this exact violin into the campus dumpster.

I had no idea he had gone back and dug it out of the trash.

The strings were pristine. The wood was polished. It had clearly been treated with the utmost care.

My fingers traced the small engraving near the base.

The initials S and T.

Margaret and Eric.

It survived all these years in perfect condition. It was absolutely sickening.

Without a shred of hesitation, I grabbed the heavy neck of the violin and swung it with all my strength into the side window.

The glass shattered outward in a spectacular explosion.

The car alarm blared into the night.

A few minutes later, the police escorted a completely frantic Eric out of the emergency room.

Seeing me sitting in the back of the shattered car, my face pale as a ghost, all the blood drained from his face.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he pulled the door open. He practically dragged me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, whispering apologies over and over again.

I did not even have the energy to push him away.

I let him carry me inside like a ragdoll. He demanded a nurse clean my wounds immediately.

As the nurse poured antiseptic over the deep cut on my leg, she gave me a sympathetic look. "This is going to sting quite a bit. Try to hold still."

Before she even finished her sentence, Eric shoved his forearm directly against my lips.

"Bite me if it hurts."

I glanced at his arm.

He worked out often. His forearm was thick with muscle and faint blue veins.

Right on the inside of his wrist was a faint, almost invisible smudge of lipstick.

The exact shade Valerie was wearing tonight.

I looked away. "No thanks."

The nurse smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"You guys are so cute! Hubby cannot stand seeing his wife in pain, and wife refuses to hurt her hubby."

Hearing her words, the panic in Erics eyes eased significantly.

He did not correct her. He casually switched arms, offering me his clean wrist with a soft, coaxing smile.

"Be a good girl. Bite down."

"You used to have the lowest pain tolerance in the world."

I did not reply.

Eric conveniently forgot exactly what I had gone through.

When I was shamelessly begging for him to come back to me, I had subjected myself to so much self-inflicted agony that physical pain simply stopped registering in my brain.

From the second the nurse bandaged my leg until she walked out of the curtained room, I did not look at him a single time.

Erics fragile ego finally snapped.

He leaned over the hospital bed, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him, his teeth ground together in fury.

"Fine. You win, Margaret."

"I will drop the apology thing. Is that what you want to hear!"

"Everything you did to me in the past, I am willing to pretend it never happened."

His grip on my jaw loosened. His voice dropped into that intoxicating, gentle register he used on the day he confessed his love to me.

"Let's get back together."

I stared at him with empty eyes.

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask him what gave him the right to just "pretend it never happened."

What about my tears? What about my suffering?

The words piled up in my throat, but the sheer exhaustion of dealing with him swallowed them whole. It just was not worth it.

I let out a tired sigh.

"I am married."

"I do not want to get back together with you. It is entirely impossible."

A suffocating, deathly silence filled the small hospital bay.

Eric opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me.

"Are you really going to keep this up? You are using this ridiculous, pathetic excuse just to reject me?"

"Are you trying to force me to the edge? Do I need to threaten to end my own life before you are finally satisfied?"

"You just want revenge, don't you!"

I looked at him calmly. I shook my head.

"You are not worth the effort."

I used to want revenge. I wanted to destroy him.

Eric and I spent fifteen years growing up together. We knew each other like we knew our own reflections.

That was why I could never process how he could just execute a cold turkey breakup. He severed me from his life so completely that we could not even be acquaintances.

But over the last five years, things changed.

My shattered, battered heart had been carefully, meticulously stitched back together by someone else.

"I stopped needing you a very long time ago, Eric."

The moment the words left my mouth, my phone lit up with a notification.

It was a voice memo from my husband. His deep, soothing voice played through the speaker.

"Hey baby, what floor are you on?"

"I am in the lobby."

A rush of absolute warmth flooded my chest.

I pressed the microphone button to reply.

But Erics hand shot out like a viper, clamping down on my wrist.

His grip was terrifyingly strong.

He stared at me, his eyes wild with accusation.

"Who is that, Margaret?! Who is the man on your phone!"