You’re taking this well, a lot better than I thought you would. The way you were the first to congratulate me on Sunday, praising me like that. I kinda thought I might not see you until after the press conference, once the camera flashes had stopped and when we could talk away from the glare of the media.

It meant a lot to me, and I know you meant it.

But I have to disagree with some of what you said. For one, your apology for him. If I were you I wouldn’t waste your breath on making excuses for him because I’ve given up listening. I’ve spent far too much time with him to realise that that’s the best I’m gonna get from him. Ever.

And I think you realise too. You just don’t want me to hurt any more than I already have been hurt.

But d’you know something, I couldn’t care less what he thinks. For me, what’s happened in the past is precisely that, the past. I’ve finally come to my senses, I guess. I can see him for what he is and I’m not going to beat myself up over it any longer.

You tell me that it’s just the way he is, slightly removed, reserved. But even you can’t tell me that his demeanour doesn’t suddenly change when you’re the cause of celebration. And then his voice is the loudest among the cheers of the team.

And do I get the same treatment? Do I fuck.

Something like that could have pushed me towards resentment, of him, of you for being his chosen one, his companion, his favourite, but to be honest I don’t want that any more. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt aggrieved about your relationship because I wanted him, I think it was more a case of jealously. The fact that I felt so alone and isolated while you too seemed to enjoy your affair. I might have loved him once but that’s all in the past.

I don’t expect you to break it off with him, no matter how much I want you to. I think you know damn well that the only thing that really riles me about this is the fact that you’re still with him when I want you to be with me.

Maybe you don’t see it like that. Hell, I know you two have a history neither of us has and probably ever will have. And if we’re talking about the truth, I don’t actually believe you now when you say you love me. I know I did before and I know you meant it ... once. I know there was a time when I craved those words more than anything. Craved them as much as your kisses when we would invariably end up in your hotel room after the race, soft hands expertly caressing my willing body, tracing the contours of my chest, knowing every inch of me and knowing how to arouse me to distraction.

There was a time when I would do anything to please you, anything to keep you mine. Just watching you sleep, your head resting on my shoulder, an arm gently wrapped around me as I’d softly stroke your cheek or ruffle your blond hair, being careful not to wake you. At that moment it was perfect and I would have done anything to keep you in my arms, to keep this bliss for ourselves.

But in the end, the one thing I couldn’t do for you was share you. So, I guess I’m finally doing it, breaking away before I myself break.

And I can’t believe how easy it actually is.

~ The End.