October 17, 1989 — the breakup of Avery Morgan and Joseph William Jamesfrey

him: — I'm not gonna lie.
me: — Tell me the truth!
him: — You're not gonna like it...
me: — Just say it.
him: — I don't love you.
me: — I know...

I stayed awake until 5am waiting for you to reply, but you never did, we sat in silence. I didn't need you to tell me you lost feelings, I noticed.
Do you know when that happened? It was the 17th of October, 1989, Cambridge.. in two and a half weeks we would have been engaged for 2 years, married for one and a half. I was young, so were you. I did marry you out of love, Lord, I don't love my husband the way I loved you. That truly happens once in a lifetime. That evening, Mr. Lockwood was taking us to an art exhibition. You never liked those, I used to love them. Every time we came home from such an event you used to tell me that in a room full of art, you still stared at me, that you were not worthy of my love, that you don't define me, that I was a masterpiece long before you came to admire me and that I'll continue to be a masterpiece long after you go. At that moment in life, I thought you were being romantic, I remember English literature was your favourite. Today, I think you were just preparing me for your leaving, you were settling thoughts of independence in my mind and I mistook them as love.

Today, 31st of August 2030, I came to visit my mother's grave in the local cemetery when... I read on a stone:
Joseph William Jamesfrey, born December 19th, 1967, decesead October 18th, 2019 right next to a tiny picture of you in your early years. The name rung a bell in my old brain, I approached. It was undoubtably you. I sat down by your grave for a few minutes, recalling every memory I had of you.

You, my dear, you were my first love and my first heartbreak all at once, one that I haven't healed from up to today. You broke up with me right after that very art exhibition in 1989, out of a fight. You told me the truth, you didn't love me anymore. I gave you the wedding ring back, along with the engagement ring, I left them on the table that night when I left our small flat in tears.
Twenty years later, when I was remarried to a man whom I do love, I received a small envelope with only a signature which I recognised to be yours and the two rings you once gave me. I threw it immediately in a drawer and forced myself to forget about them because I was still mad at you. Even twenty years later, I still hated you.

Now, my ex-love, I will go home. I know I'm not far from my own death; I'll write my husband and my children a letter telling them where to find the rings and asking them to bury those with me.
You know how they say that for passing into the afterworld you have to pay a price. I will pay with my rings, I will pay with the last symbol of our love and the last memory I have of you, just as you, my dear, you paid youth with the price of my love.

love, couple, and boy image

(suggested song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKzRIweSBLA )