Dear, Ex: I'm Not Your Backup and I Deserve More Than This

Elijah brought tea.

Again.

This time, he didn't ask. He just showed up at my office during lunch hour, holding two paper cups and a brown paper bag that smelled like cinnamon and bread.

"Hi," he said softly. "I figured you might not have eaten again."

I blinked at him from behind my desk, fingers still stiff on my keyboard. My shoulders were tense, my jaw tight. He noticed. He always did.

"You okay?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to lie. To say, "I'm fine." But the words didn't come.

Instead, I just exhaled, leaned back, and nodded slowly.

"I'm getting there."

He smiled. "Good. That's all that matters."

We sat in the back corner of a nearby park, under the shade of a tree that was slowly shedding its leaves. I sipped the hot ginger tea and chewed slowly on the cinnamon roll he brought.

He didn't rush me. Didn't fill the air with unnecessary talk.

He just sat, steady, warm, patient.

And somewhere in that silence, something inside me loosened.

"I used to think something was wrong with me," I said, voice barely louder than the breeze.

Elijah turned his head toward me, quiet but listening.

"I thought," I continued, "if I was just prettier, quieter, more patient maybe Jayden would've chosen me. Maybe I'd be enough."

The confession made my throat tighten. I hadn't said that out loud before. Not to anyone. Not even to myself.

Elijah didn't interrupt.

"I gave so much," I whispered. "And he always made me feel like I was asking for too much in return. I stopped asking. I stopped expecting. And eventually... I stopped existing in my own relationship."

I looked down at my lap, blinking back a sting of tears.

"It's like... I disappeared. And no one noticed. Not even me."

Elijah finally spoke, his voice soft but firm.

"I noticed."

I looked up, confused. "What?"

"I mean, not then," he said, smiling gently. "But now. I notice you. Every part of you. Even the quiet parts you think are too small to matter."

I didn't speak.

My chest was too full.

He added, "You didn't disappear, Ava. You just needed someone who actually knew how to see you."

I looked away, swallowing hard. "What if I'm still trying to see myself?"

He paused. Then said, "Then I'll keep sitting here until you do."

Later that evening, I walked home slower than usual.

Not because I was tired but because I was overwhelmed.

I didn't know what to call what was happening between me and Elijah.

It wasn't a relationship.

Not yet.

But it was more than friendship.

It was... a connection built from things most people overlook.

Small kindnesses. Safe pauses. Honest silence.

And still, I was scared.

Not of Elijah.

But of myself.

Because what if I let myself fall again? What if I missed the signs? What if I believed in something gentle, and it turned out to be another version of the same old hurt?

I was still lost in my thoughts when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end made my stomach twist.

"Ava. It's me."

Jayden.

Silence.

Heavy. Unwanted. Cold.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound firm. My voice came out shaky.

"I just... I was in the area today," he said. "I thought I saw you at the store. I wasn't sure."

"I saw you," I replied shortly. "I just didn't want to speak to you."

He sighed. "I figured. Look, Ava... I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"I'm not interested," I said quickly. My heart was already pounding.

"Just let me say this," he insisted. "I know I made mistakes. I know I took you for granted. But you meant something to me. You always did. And I... I never got closure. I just want to talk. Maybe over coffee?"

"No," I said immediately. "I don't owe you closure."

Another pause.

"I just thought maybe we could be civil."

My fingers clenched around my phone. "You weren't civil when you proposed to someone else right after using me as your late-night therapy line. So no, I'm not interested in playing nice."

"Ava—"

"I don't hate you," I said. "But I'm not healing so I can make you feel better."

Then I hung up.

My hands were shaking.

But for the first time, it wasn't from fear.

It was from adrenaline.

And pride.

That night, I sent Elijah a message.

Ava:

Thank you. For earlier. And for listening to the parts of me I used to hide.

His reply came minutes later.

Elijah:

You don't have to thank me for being human, Ava. But I'll always be here to remind you what you deserve until you believe it yourself.

I placed my phone on the nightstand and took a deep breath.

Then I opened my journal and wrote:

"The person who hurt me doesn't get to be the narrator of my story.

He doesn't get to name my worth.

And he sure as hell doesn't get to be the reason I don't try again."

The next morning, I woke up lighter.

Not healed.

But closer.

At work, I focused better. I cleared my inbox. I submitted two project drafts and received great feedback. My client even said:

"Your work lately feels more confident. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

I smiled to myself.

At lunch, I walked to the café near the bookstore.

Not because Elijah was there.

Just because I wanted to be there.

To sit in the space where I once felt seen.

And as I sipped my tea, something clicked inside me.

I was learning to feel safe again.

Not just with Elijah.

But with myself.

Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned and froze.

Jayden.

Again.

He looked... different.

Not in appearance.

In energy.

Softer. Quieter. But still familiar in a way that made my muscles tense.

"Can I sit?" he asked.

I stood up immediately. "No."

His brows lifted. "Just five minutes."

"I said no."

Other customers looked over. I lowered my voice.

"Jayden, please. Leave me alone."

"I just want to explain," he said.

"You already did," I snapped. "With your actions. Over and over."

"Ava—"

"I'm not doing this," I said firmly. "You had your chance. Now go."

I turned and walked out before he could say another word.

I didn't care that I left my tea behind.

Or that my hands were shaking again.

I had said no.

Out loud.

Clear.

And I didn't apologize for it.

That evening, I told Elijah what happened.

He didn't offer revenge or threats.

He just said, "I'm proud of you."

And those words felt like the safest hug in the world.

Ava's Journal Entry:

"Saying no is not cruel.

It is not unkind.

It is not selfish.

It is survival. It is healing. It is sacred.

And I am learning that peace is not something I wait for.

It's something I choose."