Chapter 1
In the third year of my online relationship, my boyfriend started acting like I was too clingy.
I did not know that by then, most of my messages were being answered by his roommate.
I did not know the birthday gifts I treasured had been picked by somebody else.
I definitely did not know that the boy I had spent three years loving was already preparing to hand me off like a package he did not want to sign for.
All I knew was this: something about “Hudson” had changed.
When we first started dating online, he had always been quiet, but his quiet used to feel warm. Alive. Even through a screen, I could feel a real person on the other side of my messages. A pause before a joke. A little dry sarcasm. The kind of answers that made me smile at my phone like an idiot.
But over the last year, his texts had started feeling… off.
Stiff.
Mechanical.
Sometimes it was like he was replying one word at a time under orders.
Once, after staring at a weirdly flat response for ten full minutes, I finally typed: Do you not like me anymore?
His answer came back almost instantly.
No.
Then, a second later:
I like you.
Then the typing bubble kept appearing and disappearing, appearing and disappearing, until another message finally came through.
Busy today. Basketball game. Didn’t mean to ignore you.
I stared at it, then shook off the strange chill creeping up my spine and sent back a row of happy puppy stickers.
Okay, baby. My fault. I overthought it.
And honestly, that was true.
Long-distance love does that to you.
It turns every silence into a cliff edge.
So I pouted at my screen for another second, then suddenly remembered something and sat up straighter in bed.
Do you remember our promise? I typed. We’re supposed to meet in a few days.
The typing bubble appeared again.
And stayed.
And stayed.
And stayed.
My patience, which had started out soft and sweet, slowly died a dramatic death.
What do you mean? I sent. If you want to break up, say it. If you don’t want to meet me, just block me.
That did it.
The reply came so fast it practically slammed into my screen.
Meet.
Then a transfer notification popped up.
$10,000.
I blinked.
Before I could even process that, another message came through.
Buy clothes.
Then another.
Buy the plane ticket.
That was another thing that had changed about him this year.
The money.
He used to send gifts only on special occasions. My birthday. Valentine’s Day. Christmas.
Now he sent money all the time.
If I posted a random photo and there happened to be flowers in the background, he would notice immediately and send me thousands with a dry little message like, Buy flowers.
It was so clumsy it should have felt ridiculous.
But instead, it felt like somebody who wanted very badly to make me happy and only knew one language when he panicked.
I never accepted most of it.
That day, instead of thanking him, I snapped a picture of my exchange student acceptance letter and sent it over.
I got in, I typed. One-year exchange program at Belmont University. I’m coming to your school. Are you happy?
There was a long, long pause.
So long I fell asleep holding my phone.
When I woke up, there were only two words waiting for me.
Happy.
I smiled so hard my face hurt.
I should have known then that happiness was too simple a word for what was about to happen to me.