She loves me.

I buy the ring.

She loves me.

It’s more than I can afford.

She loves me.

I make her favorite dinner.

She loves me.

The door opens and she walks in with a smile on her face.

She loves me.

We eat dinner, her smile still lingering.

She loves me.

I walk her out to the beach, but her smile has faded.

She loves me?

The sun sets and I get down on one knee; she begins to cry.

She loves me.

“Will you marry me?” She is silent.

She loves me?

Tears fall from her pain-stricken face. “I cannot”, she says. “There is another one; I don’t love you anymore.”

She doesn’t love me.

“I intended to break up today,” she admits.

She doesn’t love me.

“Who?” I question with agony and wrath.

She doesn’t love me.

“Jack,” she confesses. Her coworker.

She doesn’t love me.

I throw the ring into the ocean and walk away from her cries and pain.

I do not love her.