The relief of breaking up with him

I walked faster. Then I ran. I kept running until I reached the bus and got on. He couldn't catch me this time. And I didn't wait for him. I went to stay with relatives for a few days. Finals were coming up, and I couldn't stay somewhere he could find me. I gave my cousin my phone and asked her to take out the SIM card and hide it. I knew myself. If he called enough times, I might answer. My aunt called my mother because she could hear me crying in the shower. She was worried about me. My mother told her to keep encouraging me to study. We were so close now. I just had to make it through. Eventually, I had to go home. Someone from our circle saw me, and within an hour, my phone started ringing. He called my cell over and over, then the house phone. Finally, he sent one of my friends to the door. She said he was outside in his car and wouldn't leave until I talked to him. "Just give him a chance to explain," she said. "You've been together too long to throw it all away because he had a kid." I didn't know what to say to her. I just hugged her and asked her to go home. From my window, I could see him sitting in his car. At 3 a.m., I still couldn't sleep. I went to the window without turning on the light. He was still there. I got dressed. After everything, I was still going downstairs to hear him out. But by the time I opened the door, he was gone. I stood there looking at the empty space where his car had been. Even then, some part of me had expected him to keep his word. I was still waiting for him to be there for me. I could feel people watching me around the neighborhood. Everybody seemed to know my boyfriend had gotten another girl pregnant, and everybody had something to say. Even at school, people asked me what it felt like to be a stepmom. Someone asked if I was pregnant too.I counted every day left until graduation. I knew I could finish high school with my diploma. What scared me was what came afterward. I was still on college waitlists, and every day without an answer made leaving feel a little less certain. Then, two weeks after the breakup, a letter came. My first-choice college had accepted me. I read it over and over. After all those late nights, all those shifts, all that money put aside, I finally had somewhere to go. The scholarship wouldn't cover everything, so my family pooled their savings, and I applied for part-time work. My parents agreed to let me move to my new state in July and get settled before classes started.