You Were Always Just A Stand-In

For three years with Bennett, I was the legendary "Saint of Manhattan"—the most chillingly perfect girlfriend his social circle had ever seen.

I never tracked his location. I never blinked when he flirted with other women. No matter how late he stayed out or how many suggestive photos ended up on his Instagram, I never started a fight.

Bennett wore my compliance like a trophy. He loved to brag to his friends about how much I worshipped him, how he’d finally found a woman who "knew her place."

That was until he accidentally found the old cloud account I shared with my first love.