Evil Eye

After everything you’ve read so far — especially the last part — you’d think it was time for something good, right?

It wasn’t.

As Jimmy and I landed back in my city and went our separate ways, I remember feeling... giddy. Light. We were texting nonstop, smiling at our phones like idiots. He hadn’t slept the entire flight, but he still stayed awake until I reached home safely. That kind of care shouldn’t feel rare — but it does.

And then, everything changed.

I can’t even explain how or why — but by that evening, it was as if all the peace, all the softness from those five days had been scrubbed away. Like something evil had cast its eye on the joy I wasn’t sure I deserved.

I started ignoring Jimmy.

I hate typing that.
But I did.

And deep down, I know why.

I was waiting for Landon’s message.

And when it came — late at night, with him parked outside my society, wanting to "talk" — I didn’t even hesitate. I don’t remember what I told Jimmy. I don’t remember what excuse I made. I only remember that once again, I let Landon walk back in.

And in doing so, I quietly shut the door on Jimmy.
I didn’t know then that it would be forever.

---

Landon and I — we called it “giving our relationship another try.”
But now, I can laugh at that.

Not the kind of laugh that comes from healing.
The kind that comes when you realize you were the motel all along.
He came when he was lost, inebriated, lonely.
And every time, he was met with the same hospitality:

• Food

• Comfort

• Even more alcohol, if I had any to offer

---

This check-in/check-out love lasted until March.

Then — surprise — he cheated again.
I cried. I collapsed. I swore I was done.

And then, after a break of two or three months — during which he happily went back to his ex — I let him back again.

At the time, I told myself it was me giving him another chance.

But if I’m honest, I think it was him who couldn’t handle the idea that I had found something better. Not in another man — but in myself.

In silence.
In Jimmy.
In soft mornings and strong chai and knowing that I didn’t have to beg for love.

He couldn’t stand that I had moved on — not to someone else, but toward peace.

And so he came back.
And like an addict missing the chaos, I let him.