He waited three days before the first phone call. It was tempting to answer, every ring of your cell phone like a coaxing voice begging you to respond. You ignored it. Through the power of will, you convinced yourself he was calling to return something of yours; or perhaps asking for the sweatshirt he had left behind weeks ago.

He could keep your possessions. You had no intentions of returning that jacket, and had shoved it away in the back of a drawer. Forgetting was the easiest recovery for you, and after silencing your phone, the call drifted from your thoughts as well.

How long would this break last? You stopped asking yourself after a week. It was ultimately up to you, wasn’t it? He was the one causing problems, which meant it was your job to decide. You smiled slightly to yourself. Another decision to push away, to save for another time.

It had become like a game of chess to you, twisted in your mind. He would make little attempts to win back your attention, with phone calls, messages, and pleading questions through friends. You ignored him, anticipating his next move, and defeating it with tenacity. So far you hadn’t seen him, making the obstinate dance untroubled and desensitizing.

You would recognize the figure walking towards your car anywhere. Fed up with your resilience, he walked from his dorm to your workplace, hoping to catch you in a situation where you weren’t able to brush him away like unwanted dust.

He said your name without a question in his voice. He sounded annoyed, yet hurt remained weaved in the tones. “Stop ignoring me!”

“I thought we were on a break?”

“I know that, but I really wanted to say-” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his attempts. Had your life been a drama, you would have forgiven him as soon as he called, having waited diligently by the phone until he made the motion to reconcile. You weren’t about to be the submissive coward who characterized every story book. The initial sadness from his hurt had subsided, and you weren’t yet ready to offer forgiveness. Sometimes, it was easier to ignore problems than to handle them.

Perhaps your refusal to speak with him was more cowardly than the feeble heroine of those stories. You looked down on such characters, but were you any stronger? Did your stubborn silent treatment make you superior to them, or were you as weak and deplorable?

Once again, the thoughts drifted like a fragrance out of your attention. You had things to do, people to see, and no time to concern yourself with a hurtful boyfriend and your own spineless character.

He sighed as you drove away, your expression unchanging. She always came back. Why not now? She’ll come back to me, right? He leaned against his car, sinking to the ground with his hands pressed in front of his face. If apologies didn’t work, what would? You were too important for him to give up, as tempting as the prospect appeared. Your stark refusal had presented to him a new challenge, and his persistent nature wasn’t giving up until you returned.