The Tranquil Vintessa

Staring down at my phone, I was dumbfounded. Why was he calling me? My hands trembled as I watched the screen vibrate, Damien’s name and picture glaring back at me. It had been years since I told him never to contact me again. I changed everything—my address, my life, my circle—everything except my goddamn phone number. And now, there he was, my most recent ex, trying to reach out as if nothing had happened.

Memories flooded back: the fights, the tears, the anger that once consumed me. I could still see the smug look on his face when I told him I was leaving. “You’re not going anywhere,” he had said, almost daring me to prove him wrong. That night, while he was at work, I packed my things, grabbed my puppy, and left without looking back. The only thing I left behind was a note: Never contact me again.

But, of course, he didn’t listen. Damien—a classic Scorpio—made empty promises of change and reconciliation. Every time he reached out, I responded with a firm but polite, “Per my note, please refrain from contacting me. Thank you.” After a few attempts, he finally got the message. I knew he was too narcissistic to care about anything that didn’t revolve around him, and I had made sure to keep my family and friends out of his reach. He didn’t know where I lived, and after a month, I settled into my own place, closing that chapter for good.

But the past has a way of creeping back into the present. My phone went to voicemail, but I was still frozen in disbelief when Jessica came up behind me. “Hey, did you not hear me calling you? Our table is ready,” she said, gently guiding me to the hostess stand. I shook off the memories and focused on my friend, who I hadn’t seen in ages.

As we sat down, Jessica started telling me about an encounter she had with her running mate. I dug into my Pad thai, soaking up the juicy details, but my phone kept buzzing. Jessica paused mid-story, a concerned look on her face. “Do you need to get that?” she asked.

“No,” I replied quickly, trying to remain calm. But my nerves were on edge, and it was clear she could see that something was off. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that Damien had started contacting me again. After a slight pause, she let it go, and we finished our meal and conversation.

Later that night, after my skincare routine, I checked my phone one last time. There it was—a message from Damien: I miss you, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but laugh. It had been two years. Two years! Sir, it’s too little too late. I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to hear him out, talk it out, or look back into the dark after finding the light. I’m dancing in the sun now, and that’s the real tea.

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