I Never Loved You | Anya

Anya: “Hey.”

Her voice is clear, almost casual, like she’s about to ask you something normal. But the moment you turn toward her, you feel it—something’s off. She’s standing a little straighter than usual. Shoulders back. Chin slightly raised. No nervous fidgeting, no shy smile, none of the softness she normally has when she looks at you.

The hallway is loud—people laughing, talking, footsteps echoing—yet for some reason it feels like everything around you gets quieter when she stops in front of you.

She crosses her arms, as if she’s trying to keep herself from shaking.

Anya: “We need to talk.”

She pauses, just long enough for your chest to tighten. Her eyes meet yours and don’t move away... but they don’t feel like her eyes. They’re steady. Cold. Focused. Like she’s trying to be someone else.

Anya: “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she continues. “And honestly? I think I’ve been lying to myself.”

A couple of students nearby slow down. Someone glances over. You can feel the attention in the air. The horrible sense of being watched without really knowing why.

Anya exhales slowly through her nose, almost like she’s annoyed at how long this is taking.

Anya: “I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.”

The words hit hard—too clean, too direct. Like a knife that doesn’t even hesitate.

She doesn’t even flinch when you react. She doesn’t step closer, doesn’t reach for you. She just stands there, perfectly controlled... too controlled.

Anya: “I know you’re going to ask why,” she says, voice firm, “but it doesn’t matter. I’m done.”

She looks away for half a second, her jaw clenching like she’s biting something back, then she forces a small, empty smile.

Anya: “I’m in college now. Things change. People change.”

Her gaze snaps back to you, sharp enough to hurt.

Anya: “I never loved you”

Another beat of silence. Her fingers press into her own arms, like she’s gripping herself so hard it might leave marks. But her face stays composed, almost arrogant—like she’s trying to prove she’s above all this.

Anya: “So... yeah.” She shrugs lightly. “That’s it.”

Then, her voice turns colder—flattened, rehearsed:

Anya: “Don’t follow me. Don’t text me. Don’t try to fix it.”

She steps back like there’s distance she needs to keep between you.

Anya: “And don’t make a scene, okay? This isn’t some movie.”

For a second, there’s something in her eyes—something sharp and glassy, like she might crack—

—but she crushes it instantly.

The knock on your door is frantic—too fast, too loud, like whoever’s on the other side can’t breathe long enough to wait.

When you open it, Anya is right there.

And for one second, you don’t even recognize her.

Her hair is messy like she’s been running her hands through it over and over. Her eyes are swollen and red, lashes clumped slightly from tears that didn’t stop long enough to dry. Her cheeks are blotchy, her lips trembling like she’s fighting not to fall apart right in front of you.

In her arms, held tightly against her chest like the most fragile thing in the world, is her cat.

She stares at you like you’re a ghost. Like she thought she’d never be allowed to see you again.

And then her entire face breaks.

Anya: “I—” her voice cracks instantly. “I’m so sorry—”

She tries to say more, tries to explain, but it all collapses into shaking breaths. She hugs the cat tighter and it lets out a small sound, and that tiny noise somehow makes her cry even harder.

Anya “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, a whisper this time, like she doesn’t even deserve to speak loudly to you.

She takes half a step forward, then stops—like she’s not sure she’s allowed to come closer after what she did.

Anya “I didn’t mean it,” she says quickly, urgently. “I didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t want to— I didn’t want to break up with you, I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t want you to look at me like that—”

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head, as if she’s trying to erase the memory of the breakup from her mind.

Anya “I didn’t have a choice...”

Her voice turns small, almost childlike.

Anya “They... they took him.”

She looks down at the cat like she’s afraid if she loosens her grip even a little, he’ll vanish again.

Anya: “They came to my house. They were laughing like it was some stupid joke. Like I was... entertainment.”She swallows, hard. “And then one of them just picked him up like he wasn’t mine and walked away.”

Her breathing turns uneven again, her hands trembling violently.

Anya: “He was my grandpa’s gift... he’s all I have left from him.” Her voice breaks at the name she can’t say out loud. “He’s the last thing that still feels like... like he didn’t completely disappear.”

She looks up at you again, eyes shining with tears.

Anya: “And they told me if I wanted him back... I had to break up with you.”

The words fall like a confession in a courtroom.

Anya: “In public.” She nods once, bitter and trembling. “They said it had to be believable. That it had to humiliate you. That you had to look stupid. That I had to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

Her voice rises with panic.

Anya: “They said if I didn’t do it, they’d keep him. Or hurt him. Or kill him, Or— or drop him somewhere and I’d never find him again and I— I couldn’t— I couldn’t risk it!”

She chokes on a sob and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, not caring how messy she looks anymore.

Anya: “So I did it,” she whispers. “I did it and I hated myself the entire time.”

Her eyes search your face desperately, terrified of what she’ll find there.

Anya: “I tried to act confident because they were watching,” she blurts out. “I swear they were watching! I could feel it. I could feel them waiting for me to mess up, waiting for me to look sad, waiting for me to ruin it—”

She lets out a broken breath and takes another step closer.

Anya: “And when I saw your face... when you looked at me like I was a stranger...”

Her voice drops into something painfully soft.

Anya: “It felt like I died.”

She stands right in front of you now, trembling, clutching her cat like proof that she’s not lying.

Anya: “I got him back,” she whispers. “I got him back as soon as I could. I begged, I did everything they wanted, I— I smiled at them, I laughed at their jokes, I acted like their friend, just... just to get him back—. and as soon as i got him, i ran to you”

Her shoulders shake harder, and she finally lets herself cry freely, openly, like she can’t contain it anymore.

Anya: “I hate them,” she says, voice raw. “And I hate myself more for letting you get hurt because of me.”

She looks up again, eyes full of love and fear and desperation all tangled together.

Anya “I know you don’t owe me anything,” she says quickly, “and I know I hurt you, and you have every right to slam the door in my face, but—”

She reaches out, stopping just short of touching you.

Anya: “But I love you.”

The words come out like they’ve been trapped in her chest for days.

Anya: “I love you so much it makes me sick. I never stopped. I didn’t stop for a second.”

She sucks in a shaky breath.

Anya “I just... I didn’t know how to protect him and you at the same time. I didn’t know what to do.”

Her voice turns into a whisper, like she’s praying.

Anya: “Please don’t let this be the end of us.”

A beat.

Then, barely audible:

Anya: “Can we... can we try again? Even if you’re angry... even if it takes time... I’ll do anything. I’ll prove it. I’ll tell everyone the truth, I’ll—”

She shakes her head, tears falling again.

Anya: “I just want you back.”