All it took was five seconds and seven words to break her heart. The sound of people talking remained a muted noise in the background, the clattering of spoons and forks against a plate felt distant as those seven words kept ringing in her ears. For exactly five seconds, time stood still and all Anya could hear was, “I’m sorry, but we’re not working out.”

A sudden pressure on her wrist jerked her back to reality and her grey eyes fell on the large hand that was covering hers. Sliding her chubby arm from underneath his, her eyes searched for an answer. They looked for signs around his downturned eyes eventually shifting their focus to the curve of his thin lips. She studied his facial features for an indication that this was all just a prank but nothing gave away. 

“Is it me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Anya’s eyes could no longer meet his. Instead, she focused her attention on the grey tie that he wore, a celebratory gift that she’d given him just a few weeks ago for their first anniversary. He pursed his lips before uttering the cliché excuse, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

He went on to explain himself but Anya already knew. She was no longer interesting. Everything about her had been laid bare and there was nothing left for him to unravel. With tears in her eyes and a scream of anguish stuck in her throat she listened to a voice that taunted her from deep within. “If your parents could never accept you for who you were, why should he?” 

She’d seen the signs but ignored it. Keeping the secrets she’d found close to her heart, Anya went on with her life. She’d seen the messages on his phone and yet, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. She’d always thought he’d come around and realise what an amazing person she was and the positive influence she had on his life. But now Anya realised, it was all just wishful thinking. 

“What about Kyra?” Anya asked, her thoughts shifting to the four-month-old Doberman pup that was sleeping in her crate back in the little house the two of them lived in. They’d adopted the little girl a month ago when their relationship still wore the façade of happiness. 

“You keep her after all she loves you more anyway,” Brian gave a nonchalant shrug before taking a sip from his mug of coffee. Anya looked at him in disbelieve as his words registered in her mind creaking open a sealed cage she’d promised herself never to open again.

“The only reason she loves me more is that I make time for her unlike you,” Anya hissed, recalling all the times he spent hanging out with his friends and other women rather than spending time with his newly adopted daughter.

“You know I’m busy, I have a lot of work,” Brian retorted looking at her dead in the eyes.

“In case you didn’t notice, I have a lot of work too but you don’t see me complaining.”

“Well unlike you I don’t work from home,” Brian replied smugly. Anya gritted her teeth as she stared at the man she thought she was in love with. She took in deep breaths as her nostrils flared trying to close the cage that was swinging open a little wider with each passing moment, a cage that held back the most diabolical part of her; her rage.

Anya wanted to throw herself over the table and pummel the man sitting in front of her with blow after blow until his face was no longer recognizable to his other lovers. But since she was seated in a busy café, she had to think twice. She gripped the edges of her chair tight and counted till ten trying her best to bring her breathing back to its normal rate.

“If that’s how you feel then I think its best that you never see her again,” Anya spoke through gritted teeth while her nails dug deeper into the fabric of the cushioned chair she was sitting on. 

“Now you’re overreacting Anya. She’s just a dog.”

Before Anya could lunge at him, she bit on her lower lip hard, slung her sling bag over her left shoulder and marched out the door without giving Brian a second look. They’d both promised to take care of Kyra, to treat her as their daughter, to give her a happy home. It was a commitment the two of them had made but with only one of them holding on to it. Anya wiped her tears on the sleeve of her cashmere sweater and headed home to the one person that loved her more than the world.  

Anya entered her well-furnished little house and headed straight towards the crate that contained an excited little puppy. As Anya let Kyra out she was greeted by an over-enthusiastic dog jumping and licking at her which only made her heart sink. Watching her little four-legged friend jump around made Anya recall the memory of the first day they’d brought her home bringing tears to her eyes. She remembered how nervous the two of them had been before Kyra arrived, the promises they’d made to each other and the happiness the two of them felt when they finally saw their little girl. A relationship built on love, trust and respect were broken by merely uttering seven words and the lines that followed after that. 

Anya allowed the tears to roll down her chubby cheeks and fall off her double chin as she scratched Kyra behind her ears. As she found herself staring into bright, clueless eyes, she felt a wave of emotions wash over her and with it pieces of her past. The taunts, the laughs, the unwanted advice to make her a slender, gorgeous woman who would be desirable to men. Anya’s mind tried to reason with herself that Brian’s infidelity was never because of her size but the pictures she’d seen on his phone implied otherwise. As much as she tried, part of her couldn’t resist feeling pathetic, a sensation she’d been most familiar with as a child.

As she gently stroked Kyra’s soft fur, the little pup focused her attention on Anya’s right arm and sunk her sharp teeth into the cashmere sweater. Anya laughed as a tear or two escaped while trying to coax Kyra to let go. But to no avail did the four-legged animal listen. Instead, she tightened her jaw on the fabric and pulled as hard as she could.

“Kyra let go,” Anya said trying to control the tone of her voice. She didn’t want to yell and scream at her pup like she had been and focused on making her voice as monotonous as she possibly could. But the energetic little pup held on.

“Kyra let go,” Anya tried again. The sound of her voice was beginning to break. Anger and frustration were slipping its way into her speech as she watched the Doberman pull harder which was followed by the sound of fabric ripping. Anya’s breathing became heavy as she tried to pry open her puppy’s jaw. Her teeth clenched and the vein on her head throbbed as a voice deep inside her echoed words that were repeated to her as a child. 

“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” the voice said calmingly. It was the explanation she’d been told every time the leather belt slashed itself against her soft supple skin. 

In a fit of rage, Anya cupped the little pup’s face in her hand and raised the other to strike across her face. She peered into innocent eyes that didn’t know the meaning of what a raised fist looked like. Kyra stared up at Anya looking at the hand which was stuck in mid-air with a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging. Anya found herself lost in bright, faultless eyes that didn’t know the meaning of fear like hers did. She looked at her raised hand that had somehow morphed to resemble the thick, solid hand she was so ever familiar with. Could she do to someone what had been done to her years ago? 

Anya’s hand remained frozen in mid-air as she watched her little pooch eventually release her hold on the cashmere sweater to sit down and give her owner a confused look. Anya’s eyes welled up with tears as her hand slid down to her side opening a floodgate deep within her. Anya scooped up Kyra into her arms while she bawled her eyes out burying her nose into the dog’s neck taking comfort in the way the soft fur brushed against her cheek. Never before had she been on the brink of striking down a lower power. 

She’d promised herself time and again to never mould herself into the people who’d left scars that ran deep within her. Yet it had been so easy for her to reach that breaking point. Was it the heartbreak, or the pent up frustration, or the innate orthodox believe she’d inherited that laid dormant within her until now that had pushed her to almost become the people she loathed the most. As Anya stared into Kyra’s bright eyes and apologised profusely for a crime she hadn’t committed, fear crept into her heart. Anya was afraid of becoming the people she despised the most. She had placed a well-defined boundary she pledged that she would never cross. Yet all it took was a heartbreak, a playful puppy bite and inherent scars to almost cross over.