Red cards, glitter glue, and heart stickers litter the table before me. I smile, watching the children make their Valentine’s day cards. It’s been a few days since I smiled. Dad’s heart attack still haunts me, but he is recovering well at home, and I am making it through as best I can.

I never much liked Valentine’s day, content to keep to myself and not fall victim to consumerism along with the ridiculousness of flowers and chocolates. It’s just another day, and I refuse to acknowledge it beyond the classes I’ve planned. 

A thrill runs through me at the notification that pops up on my phone. Until I cringe at the thought of messaging him on Valentine’s day. I had every intention of avoiding the possible awkwardness of it, but there was a little message. 

Naughtily, I turn away from the students and open the message. I wish I hadn’t as I skim down and see the mention of a woman. My heart stops and breath halts. Did I read that right? 

I reread the message slowly and carefully. Yes, I read it right. I lean on the table, gripping the edge as spots flash before my eyes. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not seen it coming? Why did I think he would want me?

But I was stupid, naïve, unwanted.

If only that was as broken as my heart became.

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