Emma’s Reflections

Emma’s p.o.v.

I walked slowly along the familiar path at "the plateau," the secluded green area of the prestigious high school Daniel and I had attended. It was a place filled with memories of our walks together, our favorite activity as a couple. Today, however, I walked alone, seeking clarity in the quiet solitude.

My mind drifted back to the first time I met Daniel. Although we attended the same high school, Daniel was two years my senior. We didn’t interact much back then, but we moved in similar social circles and had connected on social media.

During my first year of college, I was sent to the University of Illinois to work in a lab, thanks to my academic achievements. It was during this time that I met an Irish boy two years older than me. After a few dates, he forced himself on me. Naive and inexperienced, I could only muster a subtle "no." After the deed, as the alcohol's effect waned, he apologized. I left, pretending nothing had happened, but upon returning home, I began experiencing panic attacks.

My initial concern was contracting an STD since the encounter had been unprotected. After the screening tests came back clean, I worried about pregnancy because I missed my periods. The new swollen lymph nodes and loss of my periods were due to malnutrition and severe weight loss from the depression I was suffering.

One day, I posted a selfie with my best friend, enjoying a large meal. Daniel commented, joking that it must be the only meal I'd eaten in a week, given my anorexic figure. The comment made me uncomfortable, and I tried to block him, but my best friend took over, replying to Daniel with irritating remarks. Daniel, persistent, tried to earn back my forgiveness, never stopping his attempts to connect with me on social media.

Our chats eventually turned into phone calls, and phone calls into a first date. My mother, sensing something was wrong but not knowing the cause of my depression, prepared me for the date, hoping it might start my healing process.

Daniel chose an expensive restaurant with a view of the Bosphorus. We talked endlessly, and for the first time since my trauma, I devoured all the food without caring. At the end of the date, Daniel lent me his expensive watch, asking me to take good care of it. Despite my protests, he insisted I keep it. I cherished the watch, keeping it in my memory box filled with mementos from beautiful moments with Daniel throughout our ten-year relationship.

Running marathons had been my passion, a way to forget my trauma. Despite my parents' objections due to my severe underweight and lack of menstruation, Daniel supported me. He understood it was wrong to dictate to my damaged soul. I had confided in him about my trauma on our first date. Instead of preventing me from running, he ran marathons with me. Gradually, my mind found peace in his companionship, and we decided to change our habit of running into walking together.

I had no other boyfriends before Daniel. I wasn’t an unattractive girl; I had suitors, but I simply wasn't interested back then. When I asked Daniel if he had girlfriends before me, he said he did. His first love had died in a traffic accident, which was his trauma. His relationship with his second girlfriend didn’t last because of his obsession with his first love. I was his third girlfriend.

Back then, Daniel seemed like the perfect person who filled a gap in my life, making me feel complete.