I spent months wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough, why the woman I was about to marry chose a camera lens over a life with me.
The thing is, I would have moved my whole life across oceans for her.
If she wanted Paris, I’d have given her Paris. Milan. Tokyo. Wherever the cameras were, I would have followed.
But it wasn’t about the career. It was how easily she left. How little she considered the courtesy of a conversation, a proper ending, anything beyond a half-hearted voicemail and three months of silence while I waited like a fool.
I almost chuckle at the memory now. Almost.
And then Celeste came along, and I thought maybe I’d finally found someone who wouldn’t leave, someone who actually wanted to stay.
She stayed, alright. She stayed and she f****d my best friend in
