The hallway clock chimed mockingly and its scornful tones echoed through the tiny apartment. Not coming! Not coming! Not coming! The clock seemed to sneer as it bonged the hour. Not coming! Not coming!

Lydia sent the hall clock a scathing look, her bright amber eyes flashing in irritation.

Not coming! Not coming! The clock continued unabated. Not coming! Not coming!

Lydia angrily glared at the timepiece.

So it was 9:00. So Michael had stood her up again, so what?

"Its not like this is the first time or something," she snapped at the clock. "I'm not even upset this time. Really," she said firmly. "I'm used to it by now."

Trying to prove her point, she forced an air of composure. She schooled her upturned eyebrows flat and pasted a small smile across her brightly painted lips. True her lower slip quivered slightly and her breathing was a tad rushed, but that was only because it was so damned hot in the stuffy little apartment.

"See," she pointedly addressed the hall clock. "I'm not upset at all."

The clock snickered in its tick-tock way.

Lydia glowered at the timepiece. "I'm not upset," she repeated. "So my steady boyfriend stood me up again? So what?" she tried to keep her wavering voice flat.

The clock remained unconvinced.

"I don't care."

Lydia turned on her heels away from the hall clock and made her way from the front hallway to the kitchen. Or rather, she just took three steps backwards-her apartment was so small that the "front hallway" and the "kitchen" were the same space. Come to think of it, the "front hallway", the "kitchen," the "living room," and her "bedroom" were all one space. The only truly separate room in the entire apartment was the bathroom.

For the fifth time that night, she glanced at the answering machine. No new messages. Michael hadn't even remembered to call this time; or maybe he didn't care enough to.

In either case it didn't matter, Lydia reminded herself, because she wasn't upset. Not one bit. Not even one tiny little bit. Not even one teeny-tiny little bit. Nope, not her. Even though Michael promised a dozen times that this time he'd remember their date. Even though she'd bought a new dress for the occasion. Even though it was their two-year anniversary dinner.

Lydia stared idly at the telephone, and then impulsively grabbed it. For a few seconds, she played with the notion of calling him. But what was the point? She didn't want to listen to Michael's mumbled apologies again. If he truly were sorry about missing their date, he wouldn't have done it.

Sighing she slammed the phone back into the cradle, and stalked out of the kitchen. Stumbling the short distance to her "bedroom", she collapsed onto her bed. She smashed her head into her pillow, hiding her face from the gaze of that snotty old clock.

Face still hidden from view, she ran her hand carelessly across the bedspread until she contacted something soft, her teddy bear. She snatched Mr. Bowtie Bear and fiercely hugged the stuffed animal to her chest.

Tonight had gone all wrong! How could Michael do this to her?

It was their anniversary! Their anniversary! The most romantic day of the entire year, second only to Valentine's Day. She was supposed to be out enjoying herself, not curled on top of her comforter hugging her Teddy.

Michael was supposed to have taken her to Mario's Italy tonight. Mario's was her most favorite restaurant in the entire city. She loved the private tables, the candlelight, the peppy Italian music. The memories. Mario's was a special place. It was where Michael had taken her on their first date.

Lydia smiled sadly to herself as she remembered the way Michael had looked that night two years ago. He had sat across from her, a nervous smile playing at his lips. The candlelight flickered across his bright blue eyes and caught at his jet black hair. Lydia smiled fondly as she recalled how nervous Michael had seemed. He was so nervous, twitchy, and eager to please her. He hung on her every word. And she had known-right then on their first date- that he loved her.

So why, now two years later, was she not married to Michael Way? Why wasn't she even engaged to him, for crying out loud? And why was he suddenly standing her up all the time?

She smiled sadly, as she gazed down at her new dress. It really was beautiful: the long billowing skirt, the beading along the neckline, the deep wine color that brought out the red high-lights in her otherwise uniformly brown hair.

It was a beautiful dress meant to make her look beautiful. It was a dress to make Michael remember how he'd cared for her once. How he'd loved her.

When did it happen? When did he stop loving me? I thought you could never stop loving a person. I thought love was forever.

Lydia fiddled with the hem of her billowing skirt, trying hard to stop the thoughts from forming in her mind.

Had it all been a sham, then? Had it been a lie from the beginning?

She shook her head roughly, causing her short brown hair to flutter around her face in fast-pulsed waves.

No, he'd loved me. At one point in our two-year relationship, Michael loved me.

She closed her eyes against the fast forming tears.

But he doesn't love me now.,

And there it was: the inescapable conclusion, the one that she'd been trying to deny for months. Michael didn't love her anymore; it was as simple as that.

But the problem was that she still loved him. She never saw him anymore, he didn't call her, he was standing her up more frequent that naught-and yet, she still loved him.

How could she do otherwise?

Not loved! Not loved! The hall clock bellowed cruelly, bonging out the hour. It was ten o'clock.

Lydia slowly wiped the tears from her eyes, and clutched Mr. Bowtie Bear tighter to her chest.

Not loved! Not loved!

She glared at the clock coldly.

Not loved! Not loved!

No, she wasn't. Michael had made that quite clear.

Not loved!

But she needed to know for sure. She needed to talk to Michael.

Trembling, she rose from her bed and smoothed down her now-wrinkled dress. She rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone off its hook. Without thought she punched in Michael's number.

Not loved!

The phone rung and someone picked up.

"Hello?" a voice asked wearily. It was Michael.

Lydia took a deep breath. "Hi Michael, its Lydia," she said quietly.

"Uh hi Lyd," Michael said slowly. "What's up?"

Lydia took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. "Michael, do you know what today is?" she asked straining her voice.

"Uh Tuesday?"

Lydia swallowed hard. "No..well yes, but-" she wiped at her tear filled eyes. "What else Michael?"

"Erm-American Idol night?" he asked dumbly.

"Yes, but what else?"

Michael suddenly groaned in frustration. "Look Lyd, I'm really busy right now. I don't have time for guessing games!"

"Michael," she said quietly, focusing on the words, forcing them to come out clearly. "Today is the fourteenth. Its our two year anniversary."

Michael was silent for a second. "Oh."

"Oh!?" Lydia nearly exploded. "That's all you can say?"

"I'm real sorry Lyd," Michael amended lamely. "I'm real busy today, and I plum forgot."

How could he have forgotten?

Because she meant nothing to him.

"Listen Lyd, I'm real sorry," Michael said apologetically. "But I'm real busy right now, and I have to go."

And suddenly the line went dead.

Lydia stared unblinking, phone in hand. Michael had stood her up, and then he'd hung up on her. Just hung up on her, like she was inconsequential. Like she didn't matter at all.

Anger suddenly welled up inside of her.

HOW DARE HE?

Grasping the telephone she punched in Michael's number.

"Hello?" Michael's voice surfaced.

"Michael Way you can just go to Hell!" She screamed.

"Lydia?"

"Yeah its me, you jerk!" she snapped. "First you stood me up on our anniversary. Our two-year anniversary, Michael! And then you hang up on me?"

"I -er- I"

And then she heard the laughter. The girlish voice giggling in the background. “Michael, I’m getting cold!” a feminine voice whined.

"Who's that?" Lydia questioned sharply.

"Er -uh-"

"Another girl?"

Lydia heard Michael's rushed breathing. "Lyd-I uh-"

"You were real busy tonight, weren't you Michael?" Lydia asked suddenly sobered. "I wouldn’t put out, so you found yourself someone who would. Who is she? Someone I know?"

"I-er-I"

Lydia swallowed hard. "Why didn't you just break up with me Michael?" she asked softly, but her voice was anything but soft. Her tone was sharp, pointed like a jagged shard of glass.

"I -er-I"

"Its over."

Lydia hung up the phone.

She stared at the phone mount, trying to get her bearings.

Michael had been cheating on her.

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. She knew it was true.

He was cheating on her. He didn't have the nerve to break up with her, the spineless coward. Instead he'd cheated on her.

She felt strangely calm. She was so angry, that she couldn't fume. She was so hurt that she couldn't cry. She felt dry, like a pile of kindling ready for the fire.

And suddenly that kindling sparked. Raw emotions ignited: fury, anger, pain. The emotions swelled into a giant all-consuming fire.

And suddenly she felt that fire of emotions coursing through her soul. She closed her eyes welcoming it, watching in delight, as the fire grew ever larger.

The inferno raged, burning away at her heart until it'd consumed any affection she'd ever felt for Michael Way. But it didn't stop there. The flames grew larger and larger, overwhelming her, licking eagerly at her exposed heart. Red hot, it burnt away her very heart, her very core until she was left with nothing.

And as the fire cooled, she surveyed the emptiness that had once been her heart. The emptiness, the nothingness.

And she vowed that never again would she give so freely. Never again would she love another as she loved Michael.

Not that it mattered; she no longer had a heart to love with.

A/N: flames if you want. This was something I wrote in one sitting. But an honest opinion is always welcome!

DH