Faded Decisions
Kiera stared at the phone in her hand, debating whether she should call her fiancé and finally end things. She shook her head, recalling the highs and lows that brought her to this exact moment. Would ending it make things better—or worse?
"When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade."
That old proverb brought a shy smile to her lips. It was something her grandmother used to say when she was 22 and moving out for the first time. Kiera never had a mother or father figure growing up, but her grandmother had been her whole world. She called Kiera Princess, and even though they didn’t have much, she made sure Kiera had everything she could give.
Now, she had no one to call. No one who would understand. She spoke French. Her fiancé, James, was American. Two different languages, two different worlds. And no one really cared to understand hers.
From the shadows, James appeared.
“What do you want?” she snapped, her voice raw with frustration.
He shook his head, already looking like he regretted showing up. “I just wanted to check on you.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I followed you.”
Of course he did, she thought bitterly. It was one of the many things she hated—being followed. James wasn’t her father, he wasn’t her childhood friend. He was her fiancé. But he always acted like he owned her.
James was 41. She was 21. He was a well-respected lawyer. She was a newly minted nurse. Her family praised him endlessly, calling him “charming,” even after every fight. They always took his side.
“She’s too spoiled to appreciate a good man,” they’d say. And when James was clearly in the wrong, he’d throw money at the problem—and they’d accept it, convincing Kiera to forgive him.
But Kiera wasn’t blind. She saw everything.
She had tried hard to make the relationship work, but she never imagined herself marrying him. Over time, he changed. No, he never physically hurt her, but his words—cut like knives. He picked fights out of jealousy. He didn’t want her to have friends, didn’t want her to connect with the outside world. According to him, if she had him, she needed nothing else.
He was a control freak—and proudly so. He claimed it was "for her own good."
Around her family, James became the perfect man. She wished they could see through him. Instead, they reminded her of their history, saying she’d never find better. She began to believe them. Maybe she had no choice but to stay.
But she hated it.
"I'm young," she whispered to herself. "I still have so much to learn. But I won’t give in just because he wants me to."
Out loud, she screamed, “I can’t catch a fucking break!”
“Leave me the fuck alone!”
James flinched at her tone. His hand hovered mid-air near her face.
“Don’t you fucking start,” she warned, eyes locked on his.
Some nerve, she thought. He follows me and thinks he can say whatever he wants.
She grabbed her phone and blasted her earphones to full volume. The music drowned out his voice. She smiled. Sweet, defiant silence. Turning away from him on the park bench, she muttered:
“Fucking go away.”
Godsmack’s “Whatever” blared through her ears, igniting memories of every fight they'd had.
"I don't like you anyway…
You're pathetic in your own way."
The song was her personal rebellion. Her screw you to James.
"I feel for you
Better fucking go away..."
How did we get here in just three years? she wondered.
She belted the final lines:
"You get what you get until you're through with my life…
I feel for you… better fucking go away!"
James realized she hadn’t heard a word he'd said. In a rage, he jumped in front of her and yanked the earbud out.
“What the fuck?” he shouted.
Kiera smirked. “Didn’t realize you could talk.”
She replaced her earbud, amused at the blow to his ego. James fumed, cursing, trying to grab her phone. But the music continued to drown him out.
Kiera stood, walking away. “Can’t fucking be alone, can you?”
One earbud slipped out.
“Leave me the fuck alone!”
“Fine! I’m done with your ass anyway!”
She rolled her eyes and ran in the opposite direction. “So mature. Fucking asshole.”
It was midnight. She was cold, without a jacket. She stopped running. Turning back, she saw James still lingering.
“Great,” she muttered. “Now I have to go back.”
Her next song started playing:
"You were the shadow to my light… Where are you now?"
She sighed. “Typical. ‘Faded.’”
She kept walking. Her playlist read: Breakup Mix.
"Was it all in my fantasy…? Where are you now…?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
“What the heck was I thinking?”
She loved James. He loved her—or so he said. But lately, love wasn’t enough. She felt used. Controlled. Trapped. She remembered when he’d first swept into her life like a prince. Now, she questioned if it had all been fake.
"I'm faded… I'm faded… So lost..."
An hour passed. Her phone was dying. She walked home, hoping James was asleep.
He wasn’t.
“Damn it,” she whispered, unlocking the door.
The alarm beeped. She rushed to disarm it. Her dog came barreling to greet her.
“Sit,” she ordered gently.
He obeyed. She scratched behind his ear. “Good boy. Come on, buddy.”
In the bedroom, her dog curled on his bed. She undressed and slid into bed next to James, who seemed to be asleep.
He wasn’t.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist. His lips found her neck—sloppy kisses without apology. She lay still, confused by the sudden change.
Then his hand slid into her underwear, fingers circling her clit. She nearly gave in—until she saw something in her mind: a dark-haired woman, watching her.
Panic surged.
She grabbed his hand. “Not tonight. I’m sleepy.”
She faked a yawn. “G’night.”
James didn’t believe her. He threw the covers off and got up, livid.
“Go to hell!” he shouted, punching a hole in the wall.
Kiera said nothing. She was too tired, too numb. But for the first time, she felt something else: guilt. Not because she’d cheated—but because, in her mind, it had been someone else touching her.
And that… scared her.