I couldn’t get a job for a month after my return, which made me feel like such a failure. Like I assumed she would, Janice refused to give me a recommendation, and nobody would hire me. My only option was to grovel and ask her if she’d rehire me. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. She never let me forget this ‘immense favor’ she did for me.

Quickly after that, life went back to what it had been before Carmel, but more and more, as time passed, I noticed something was different, almost invisible at first. And it wasn’t on the outside looking in, but on the inside looking out. Maybe nobody perceived the change, but I felt it. The apartment was the same, my job was the same, and David was the same. The only thing that changed in the equation of my life was me, apparently.

I didn’t know what was wrong for a while; I just knew that I felt sad and lonely.

At first, I blamed the job. The hours were worse than before, the pay stayed abysmal, the assignments were only leftovers from the other reporters. Yes, the job was making me miserable.

I blamed NYC. It felt dirty, noisy and overcrowded all of a sudden. The winter was too long, the summer too hot. But a city doesn’t make you happy or unhappy. A city is just a city.

I blamed my relationship with David. It wasn’t perfect before Carmel, but there was nothing wrong with it either. Now, there was something wrong: the shadow of a doubt. Although I tried, I never fully trusted him again after Carmel. The first few weeks back, I avoided bringing it up, but you can only pretend you’re OK for so long. When I finally asked, the fights started, the accusations, the blaming game. He accused me of being crazy and looking for reasons to belittle him, of not caring; he accused me of many things. I called him a hypocrite. I accused him of cheating, lying to me, never having time for us. I dug up Carmel again and again. After a while, the fighting stopped. I don’t think either of us had any energy left. All that seems to be left between us is an awkward silence over dinner, kisses I avoid, and sleeping on the couch.

My mom keeps probing, as any mother does when she feels something is off.

“I’m just tired,” I usually reply.

I am tired. Of everything. But I’m also a coward. The question that’s been nagging at me lately is: am I more coward or more tired?

Leaving David would be hard both emotionally and logistically and I keep asking myself if the logistics are the reason I’m still in the relationship. Isn’t that why I chose not to break up with him last year? Because I had no home, no job, and he was the safe choice? Well, nothing changed. I have a job, sure, but I could never afford to live in the city with the money I make. And what would I even tell him? I’m leaving you because you cheated on me last year? Because I don’t love you anymore? Why did I stay for so long? And when did I stop loving him? The bigger question is: did I ever love him?