All of these were lies, of course, but Jessica gave me a look that said maybe she bought it. Maybe, one day, I would buy it too.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know, if you flew down there,” Deepa whispered to me, out of the earshot of the others. “I get it. You want closure. You should go. It’ll be good for you.”

I managed a laugh that I hoped was flippant. “Thanks, Deeps. I’m fine, though, really. Just caught off guard, that’s all.”

But it was like a disease. I was sick. Sick of the idea of Kaavi and Spencer.

She’s marrying the guy I was dating all through college, I had said to the women at brunch. Just a university sweetheart. It was almost painful how dismissive it was.

Because Spencer, well, he wasn’t just some guy. He would never be just some guy. It hurt me, like, actually physically hurt me, to think about the early days of our relationship. The days where he would convince me to play hooky and we would go to the movies and then for ice cream. Juvenile, childish things I’d missed out on growing up. He’d listen to me when I cried. When I told him how much I missed my mom or wanted desperately to hate my dad.

I was exhausted as I dragged myself back to my apartment and collapsed onto the couch. It wasn’t just the wedding announcement. I always felt this way after hanging out with the girls. So much of my life is spent on recovery mode.

I was so ridiculous, thinking they would understand. Thinking they would be on my side.

Sure, they were great for a weekly attempt at not being a hermit, but Jessica never really got me. She never had the need to. I was sweet, polite, calm Amaya. Amaya who spent her week selling overpriced cinnamon to fancy LA millennials. Who tipped more than anyone should and who was always happy to take a cab home by herself when the friends she came out with disappeared with guys they’d just met.

Jessica would have an aneurysm if she found out that I wear a collar and let a stranger I met on the internet put nipple clamps on me and deny me orgasms until he felt I was adequately whipped.

I sighed.

Five years ago I made a decision to walk away from my old life. That meant Spencer, Kaavi, and everyone in between. It hurt, but I had to do it, for my own sake. It was the first of many decisions where I made myself a priority, and while it broke my heart, it freed me. For the first time, I was truly on my own.

Had I flourished on my own? Perhaps not in every sense of the word. But I sure as hell got by. I had my routine. I had my fun. I had carved out some semblance of what I wanted, and I will keep chipping away at it until I can convince myself that I’m happy.