You will hate her because you know he fell in love with her as quickly as he would quench his thirst during a hot day in the desert. All at once with violent fervour, filling himself up with her. The way he did with you.
You will hate her because he always falls hard and you know it happened with her too. You shudder at even thinking of thinking of when he whispered “I love you” and how she likely reacted differently than you had. You will hate her because you know when he confessed it he was not lonely, post-surgery and medicated. Or some form of impaired that made you doubt the words you secretly loved to hear.
You will hate her because he will describe her the way he once described you. Smart. Sassy. Sexy. She looks kind of like you too. A less cute you. And yet, he thinks one thing of her that he does not think of you.
You will hate her because he asked her to move in with him. They are trying to build a life in a space that you can practically feel on your skin when you close your eyes. It is no longer his, it is theirs. Even if they breakup she will remain everywhere – in his memories, in your thoughts, separating you on the couch, beside you in his bed, laughing with the two of you in the shower, between you while you scramble the eggs and he flips the bacon.
You will hate her because in a way she has ruined him for you. She, with her every breath, sucks away any desire you have to find yourself back with him, back in their place, back in her side of the bed, back in the nooks of his body you loved to nuzzle into that are now filled with her.
You will hate her for existing.
And you will hate her because you aren’t her, because you and him would have been great together, but he blew it for her and you hate him for that every day.