She went to bed every night promising herself that tomorrow, she wouldn’t wait for his calls. That tomorrow never came and she remained as susceptible to his charms as ever. Something within her was crumbling. And it continued to crumble bit by bit each time he picked up the phone and criticized her in every conversation.
But she never learnt her lesson. She’d count the hours looking forward to his next call all over again. He never had any generous words for her; he never enquired about her day or even remembered some of their prior conversations. Yet she practically hung onto every word he uttered and relived every conversation in her mind. And then he’d turn around and admonish her for forgetting the stuff he never shared with her in the first place.
He wasn’t cruel. Just indifferent to her charms. Sensible, rooted and poised, she was too vanilla for him.