Clay brought me breakfast in bed on our first anniversary — cinnamon toast, bacon, and a surprise road trip.
I thought this meant he was finally ready to move forward. But somewhere between cornfields and silence,
I realized the trip wasn’t really about me. The truth hit hard the moment I stepped out of the car.
We drove with no clear destination, his smile hiding something deeper. When I spoke of wildflowers,
he dismissed me — focused instead on a slope that only mattered to him. His past was still tangled in our present,