Storytelling

“Guess who’s in Paris!” Amelia beams, “I wanted it to be a surprise when I got to your apartment, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer! I just thought about it yesterday and bought the ticket right away.”

Amelia has been noted for her impulsivity for basically her whole life—this is simply her latest escapade. Specifically jumping on a plane right after she got off of work with a half-packed suitcase to finally reunite with her long-distance boyfriend, Théo, on the night of their one-year anniversary.

It took him a moment to react. “What?”

“I’m back, honey! I came all the way here just to see you! I missed you so much. Though I can’t stay for long, so I only packed one suitcase,” she giggles, oblivious to his upset demeanor.

“Oh… that’s… great babe,” he says slowly. “Why don’t we meet at our park, so we can talk?

Our park, she thinks dreamily. Where they first met a year ago—

“I’m on my break soon, so this is good timing… I guess. See ya.”

He hangs up immediately. If she’s taken aback by his reaction, she doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s the stress of his job, she wonders. Little does she know of the heartbreak that lies ahead of her on what was supposed to be the most romantic trip of their relationship thus far

“What the hell do you mean you want to breakup?!” Amelia is practically screaming at this point, dismissive to all the locals she’s probably scaring off.

“I know it hurts, but this is for the best,” Théo tries to reason, stepping closer to ease the tension. It rattles her.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, trying to belittle me,” she points accusingly. She wants to rip her hair out. She wants nothing more than to punch him in the face. She feels like her heart sank from her chest and fell out her body, splattered on the ground like it was never meant to beat in a soul.

“Just hear me out,” Théo explains. “The last time we probably texted was a month ago. That’s not okay,” he makes air quotes with fingers, “we’re a… ‘couple’, and we should want to text and call every day if it was meant to be.”

“I’m texting you, I’m calling you, I’m putting in all the work and you just don’t care. I literally flew out to Paris to see you! On a freaking Wednesday!” Amelia shrieks.

“I didn’t ask you to be here.”

Her jaw drops, fire burning in her eyes. “What did you say?”

“Amelia, come on. I’ve put a lot of thought into this and we need to be realistic. It’s too hard and causing both of us too much pain. I want the best for you, and I’m definitely not it. We haven’t been in sync for a while, and I wish I told you this sooner,” Théo admits.

She doesn’t say anything, tongue caught behind her teeth and her mind racing through a million words a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Théo starts again.

“Stop talking to me,” Amelia mutters.

“Look, maybe we can still be f—“

“Don’t you dare say friends. Just-just stay away from me!” she cries.

With that, she storms off, doing everything she can to hide her battle against her own tears threatening to fall.

Amelia lets out a heavy sigh.

“Merci,” she tells the waiter as he serves her a cafe au lait. She didn’t even want it, getting plenty of sleep on the plane ride here.

She found herself at this little bistro that he once took her to in the early days of their relationship. She stirs the drink, slowly and gratuitously, her mind worlds away from here.

She knows she’s only hurting herself by doing this—forcing herself to places that will only remind her of him. She feels pathetic.

“You know what,” she says, dropping her spoon. “I need to shake this off. Like, who cares? I’m in Paris! I need to make the most of this.”

She looks down at her half-empty suitcase. “Nothing a little retail therapy can’t cure. Might as well treat myself!”

She stands abruptly from her seat and drops a few euros onto table, heading off to the nearest shopping area.

What self-respecting woman has the time to get hung over a guy she was only with for a year?

Not me, she thinks. Definitely not me.

McQueen, Maje, Zara; she waltzed in like a champion. She even bought something from Supreme… does she even like Supreme? Who cares, she’s in Paris!

“There’s no better feeling in the world than the weight of good shopping choices,” She reaffirms to herself.

She felt like she finally found her rhythm again.

“I’m gonna be okay,” she repeated. “I’m gonna be okay.”

She sees a beautiful blouse. “Oh, how pretty this would look on a date with --”

No. Enough about him. She doesn’t need him.

Her mascara was running, but she didn’t have the energy to care.

She missed him.

At first, she only felt blinding white anger, shocked by his reckless decision to end their story.

It only took a few hours later, sitting around waiting for a WiFi signal to try and prove she was happy on her Instagram, before she finally broke down into tears.

She’s never felt so alone.

Not even the rose scent of a Chloé bag soothes her the way it did before.

She found herself on the ground, engulfed by the paper and ribbons of her thoughtless purchases, a constant reminder of how her impulsivity and naivety always get the better of her.

These brands don’t care about me the way he did.

Models: Natalie as Amelia, Gabriel as Theo

Stylist: Gabriel

Photographer: Matt

Writer: Ilyssa