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My story with Gavin Carter was as messy as the rumors suggested.
He fell for me at first sight.
After my final bow at the community theater, he stood backstage holding a bouquet, his ears as red as the roses in his hands.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gavin Carter,” he stammered.
I ignored him, pointing to the “Backstage Staff Only” sign as a polite dismissal.
My mother was sick, and I was juggling multiple part–time jobs. I had no time or interest in romantic pursuits.
But Gavin was persistent, chasing after me for three years.
He joined me for cheap roadside hot dogs after late shifts.
He handed out flyers with me on street corners, never flaunting his wealth or making me feel small.
One rainy night, he hiked through muddy trails and fell more than once to fetch a supposedly “lucky” charm for my ailing mother.
But luck wasn’t enough–my mother passed away anyway.
When he finally handed me that charm, battered, feverish, and with a cut across his forehead, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I threw myself into his arms and asked, “Will you always love me like this?”
My sudden embrace startled him into a stiff, awkward stance. Even his words trembled.
“Aria, are… are you saying yes? You’ll be my girlfriend?” He sniffled, looking every bit a fool. “I will! I swear I’ll love you like this forever. You’ll always be my one and only. Trust
me.”
He’d added softly, “Your mom may be gone, but from now on, I’ll be your family.”
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His eyes sparkled with sincerity, his voice so earnest it was almost childlike.
That was a long, long time ago.
So long that I had spent the last seven years locked in a cage of his broken promises.
Even when the signs were clear, I made excuses for him, clinging to those words he once
said.
But this time, Gavin tore the illusion apart, laying the bloody truth bare.
The vows shattered, and it felt like a blade slicing through my throat.
