Midnight Collision

Part3: The first slap

Since we’ve already talked about Christmas, why should New Year’s Eve be left alone?

I’ve always longed for that big, messy, loving group of friends to celebrate life with — the kind that shows up, sticks around, and fills your year with memories. I never had much luck with that growing up, but this New Year’s felt like a rare win. I spent time with my sister, and then a newly formed group of friends invited me over to ring in the new year. It felt warm, unexpected — lucky.

Now, Landon doesn’t know what boundaries are. But during one of our weekend drives, I was in the car with him and one of his close friends when they told me — very clearly — that “Holi and New Year’s are for the boys. No girlfriend can say anything about it.”

Reading that now, I want to go back in time and slap the audacity right off both their faces. But back then? I laughed nervously and accepted it — as if I had no say.

So when the night came, we both did our own thing. I was with my friends, sipping, laughing, letting go. The clock struck 12. We clinked glasses. And then, my phone rang.

It was Landon. He’d come to wish me, to kiss me at midnight — surprise! My heart melted. This was the version of him I kept waiting for. The one who showed up. I ran out, saw his car parked, jumped in with a smile… only to see his friend in the backseat.

Apparently, they had to go back soon. Boys' rule and all that. But I didn’t care. He came for me. That was enough — or so I thought.

Twenty minutes later, that surprise turned into the very first nightmare of our relationship.

He slapped me.

It started with his phone. I was holding it to play a song. He stepped out to pee. And then the messages started popping up — from her. The girlfriend before me. The girlfriend alongside me. The woman I didn’t know I was sharing him with.

She was cursing him out in messages that made my hands shake. Furious that he’d been dancing, touching, getting close with another girl at the party. A stranger, yet not a stranger anymore — because I saw the pictures. Him, arms around her waist, lost in a moment that wasn’t mine.

I asked him. Quietly. Then again, not so quietly. His friend tried to shut me down — “It’s just dancing, let it go.”

But I couldn’t. And then, just like that, he raised his hand.

The yelling blurred into tears. I was crying. He was shouting. I was shaking. And somehow, somehow, I ended up apologizing for using harsh words.

He dropped me home around 3 a.m. That night — or early morning — I decided I was done. I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unfeel it.

I even found my escape. The most beautiful, peaceful days I’d live. But that escape — that person — deserves a chapter of their own.

The Things I Couldn't See Back Then

 Part 2

Why is it that you don’t see the right and wrong when it comes to a certain person?

Looking back now, I can’t believe how blind I was to the red flags. Not just the little ones, but the big, obvious ones waving right in my face. The truth is, the relationship wasn’t good from the start. It wasn’t built on mutual respect or emotional maturity—it was built on intensity, urgency, and the illusion that love alone could fix everything.

But when you're in it, you don’t see it that way. You see hope. You see potential. You see someone who could be better, if only they had enough love. Your love.

Who was I to believe I could change someone?

And why would someone want to change, if everything in their life had already taught them that they didn’t have to?

Landon grew up in a world where boys were handed freedom without accountability. A two-wheeler at sixteen, a car by eighteen—every desire met without hesitation. His family, especially his mother, adored him. And I used to think that’s just how “boy moms” were. But now that I’m a mother to a boy myself… I know better. Love doesn't mean indulgence. Love means responsibility. Boundaries. Empathy.

Still, it’s not fair to paint him all bad. There were moments—fleeting, soft, real—where he gave me the warmth and protection I craved. He never forced me into anything. And for me, that was a huge green flag. I took it as proof that he respected me. That he cared.

But what I didn’t realize is that he wasn’t protecting me.
He was preparing me—to let go of my own boundaries willingly. To make it easier for him to take without asking.

He never had to demand anything. Because eventually, I started giving it all away on my own.

There were moments, even then, where I questioned things. Where my gut told me to run. But I didn’t listen. I couldn’t.
And maybe that’s something I’ll talk about soon.

Because the truth is, when you love someone who’s emotionally unavailable,
you don’t just lose them—you lose yourself, too.

Before I wrap this, I want to share a memory—and maybe you can tell me whether it was sweet or bitter. Or maybe it was both.

We got involved in October, and by December 25th—Christmas Day—I had what I thought was our first real date. No plans. No reservations. Just… a long aimless drive, a bottle passed between us, the windows down, and the illusion that we were spontaneous and free.

By the end of the night, we ended up in a hotel.

I was inebriated. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t need to—not yet.

But afterward? The doubts came rushing in like a wave I wasn’t ready for.

The entrance to the hotel was tucked away in the parking lot.
He drove in without checking anything.
No hesitation. No Google Maps. No second-guessing availability.
Like he had done it before. Like this was routine.

And eventually, I found out it was.
It was the same place he had taken his ex.
And a few others.
“Friends,” he said.

It made me sick.
It makes me sick now.
Not just because of what he did—
But because I stayed.

Because I kept going back.
Because I believed that my love could somehow make me different in his story.
Because I thought being chosen meant being valued.

But now I know better.

Unplanned, Unprepared and Unbreakable

We were in LOVE, until we weren’t…

I met Landon in a crowded club—loud music, dim lights, and a version of me that still believed I could fix broken people with love. He wasn’t my type, not even close. Something about his energy felt chaotic, untethered. But he was persistent. He chased me like I was his missing piece, and I mistook that intensity for love. I was the calm he said he needed. The anchor in his storm. What I didn’t know—what he didn’t tell me—was that I wasn’t the only woman in his life. I was the other woman, unknowingly stepping into a story already stained with betrayal.

When the truth surfaced, I tried to walk away. But Landon’s friends pleaded his case—and so did mine. They said he could change. They said I brought out the best in him. And maybe, after everything, I wanted to believe it too. I had been single for a while. My last relationship had been serious, and its ending left a mark. I thought I’d grown—I believed in communication, honesty, laying all the cards on the table. And I did. I told Landon everything. But all he gave me in return were lies. Lies so carefully told, so convincingly lived, that when they finally unraveled, they shook me to the core.”

I was a mumma’s girl. Losing her so early in life left a hole no one else could ever fill. Just when I thought I was learning to live with that loss, life threw another emotional curveball my way—one I wasn’t ready for, and didn’t see coming. 

I didn’t know it then, but this was only the beginning. The beginning of a love that would unravel, a self I would lose, and a life I’d have to rebuild—piece by painful piece.