Selfishly, I didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Illogically, I hated her. Unreasonably, I wanted to march up to their table and politely ask Miray to take her hands off my man. But I couldn’t do any of that. Because I’d still wake up tomorrow morning wanting love; and he’d still wake up tomorrow morning not believing in it. The best thing I could do for myself was to let him go. My heart was bleeding, and my stomach was twisting, but the pain was temporary. It wasn’t like I’d still be pining after him in fifteen years. Not like I was going to regret not listening to my gut.
