A beautiful flower. almeen bano

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      almeen bano

      A beautiful flower

      Chapter 1: The Breakup

      “Joe, I want to end our relationship.”

      I looked up from the suitcase I’d started to unpack. My girlfriend, Staci, and I had just arrived back at our apartment after what I'd thought had been an exhilarating one-week vacation in Cancun, away from our medical school studies at NYU. Then I heard Staci’s words.

      Why would she say that? Was she joking? I turned to check on her,

      “What did you say, Staci?”

      With her hands on her hips, Staci fixed her brown eyes on me. She stood five feet six inches tall with short, brown silky hair. Again, she stated, “Joe, I want to end our relationship,”

      At first, her words refused to sink in. Then my heart raced, and my legs threatened to give way. What was happening?

      “What?” I stammered, hoping against hope that she was playing some cruel joke.

      “I've been thinking this for a while now, and I believe it's the best course of action for both of us. I shouldn't waste your time,” Staci reiterated.

      It took me a while to accept that this wasn't a nightmare from which I could wake up. I started screaming, “What? You can't be serious! We just had an amazing time in Cancun. What's going on? Did I do something wrong?” The tears threatened to break free, but I fought to hold them back.

      I felt like a frightened child, threatened with abandonment in a dark room, bargaining for a reprieve. Staci's response only added to the cruelty of the moment.

      “It’s not you, Joe. It’s me.”

      There it was—the cliché sentence. So much for her being different from other girls— another cliche. There was no empathy in her tone. How could she be so composed? I wished she would at least show some remorse —perhaps some tears.

      I started to tear up. “Staci, you can’t do this. I love you," I confessed like a fool, my pride forgotten as I clung to a sliver of hope that she might reconsider. How long had she been harboring these thoughts?

      “I’m sorry, Joe. My decision is final.”

      “Don’t feel bad, Joe. We have been together for the past ten years. There isn’t anything wrong with you. So, please don’t ask me such questions because I won't be able to answer them, and all you will find yourself asking me is even more questions. The truth is, we are just too perfect for each other.”

      My anger rose, and sweat poured down my forehead. Although I usually never got mad at Staci, I could not control my rage.

      “What are you on about? Do you even know what that is? What we have is perfect for each other, so why the hell are we doing this? Have you lost your mind?”

      Staci turned her body slightly, avoiding my angry face. I was sure she didn’t want to listen. Did she really think I would accept her decision as a matter of fact?

      “Don’t you turn away from me. I have loved you more than I ever loved myself. Everything I do, from the clothes I wear to the food I eat, I think of you. Every decision I make is in accordance with your preferences. My life revolves around you. What more do you want? Tell me what it is, and I will do it or give it to you.”

      Staci moved her body so she could face me. I could see some anger on her face.

      I tried to soften her up. “Staci, we grew up together and have been inseparable by the time we were both accepted to NYU Medical School and shared an apartment. I enjoy making you laugh and acting silly. The way you cover your mouth when laughter bubbles from your lips—I adore you”.

      “You’ve just identified the problem. We are kids still. We are only twenty-four years old, and all this time that I have been in school has been shared with you and no one else. Haven't you ever noticed this? We never made friends. We always hung out with each other.”

      My mouth opened, and I rubbed the hair on top of my head continuously as I stared at her. I felt utterly helpless, realizing that I could do nothing to fix the situation, nothing that could erase what she had just revealed.

      Staci, however, barely showed any emotion. “Look, Joe—In two years, when we begin our residency, we'll embark on separate paths for the first time. I want to meet new people in medical school. I don't want to study, eat, and socialize with only one person. In fact, I'd like you to move out tonight. You can come back next week to get the rest of your things.”

      The shock of her words left me speechless. It was late evening, and I couldn't fathom where she expected me to go.

      “What now?” I finally managed to utter, my confusion evident. “Where am I supposed to go? This is my apartment, too.”

      Staci folded her arms. “I found this apartment, and most of the furniture is mine. You can visit your parents or stay at a hotel and come back and get the rest of your things later,”

      The pain ripped through me. I clenched my fists, my jaw aching.

      “Staci, why don’t you move out? You’re the one breaking up with me.”

      “Grow up. My name is on the lease, not yours. If I move out, I will tell the landlord to cancel the lease, and then both of us will have to leave. If you have any respect for me, you will be the one to go.”

      I ran my hands through my hair. Like a child, I kept reassuring myself that this couldn't be real, but slowly, the harsh reality set in, turning what I hadn't even anticipated into a haunting memory.

      At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to punch a hole in the wall. The hurt ran too deep for me to engage in any further conversation with her. I repacked my suitcase and grabbed my schoolbooks.

      Staci watched me. How could she not even express a single emotion?

      “I don’t want to discuss this further,” I muttered, my voice heavy.

      I turned my back to Staci and continued aggressively stuffing my belongings into bags—clothes, books, and anything that was mine to take. My desire to leave everything behind burned within me, but I knew I had to maintain some semblance of dignity. I wanted to fight, complain, and argue, but her mind was made up, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

      Yet, as I packed my bags, I couldn't help but feel lost. For the first time, I left without taking a moment to say goodbye or kiss her. Was it truly over? I slammed the door to our apartment on the way out and pondered this question as I made my way to the Long Island Railroad, purchased a ticket to Great Neck, and boarded the train.

      During the ride, I remained surprisingly calm. It was late at night, and few passengers shared the carriage, most either asleep or deep in thought. I would’ve loved to share my misery with a total stranger at a bar, but it was not to be. It felt like I had been thrust into a nightmare where a mugger might appear to seal my fate at any moment.

      I was scared and exhausted, but most of all, I was overwhelmed by the loneliness that enveloped my heart. Who would I confide in now, sharing the little things that bothered or excited me?

      Was this what loneliness is? It wasn’t people leaving you and having no company around to share secrets and moments of despair and joy. It was when you didn’t talk to yourself anymore. I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. I wanted to hate but couldn’t.

      At precisely eleven twenty-three p.m., I arrived in Great Neck, hailed a cab, and found myself standing on my parent’s doorstep after a brief five-minute drive. I knew what awaited me inside and was entirely unprepared for it. The only thing I craved at that moment was sleep. With a deep breath, I pushed the doorbell, and within minutes, the sound of approaching footsteps confirmed that I had roused my parents from their slumber.

      “Joe, what are you doing here this late? Is everything all right?” My mother, Leah’s voice rang out, filled with concern and a hint of breathlessness. She stared at me, all five feet four of her, with her eyes wide with surprise, while my father, much taller at five feet ten, stood beside her in his bathrobe and wore a similar expression. As the dean of the NYU medical school, he dealt with crises every day and never rushed to make an impulsive decision. However, the difference was