UNTIL LOVE SETS US APART ( JENLISA)

Chapter 9

Lisa POV

I tore apart the house looking for her. Tipped up the couch, pulled the shower curtain across, ducked beneath counters, moved the beds out from the wall, as though she was some errant cat who could have hidden her self away in any of those places. The whole time, I was silently pleading with the universe for her to walk back through that door, con fused at the state of the house, or to roll out of the corner of some bed I hadn't thought to check yet, a teasing smile on her face when she saw the mess I'd made of everything.

But she was gone. Utterly gone... Vanished in the night, as I slept. I would have feared her kidnap, but she had taken some of the books and packed a bag, so I knew she had to have left under her own volition; probably to go back to her family. Why would she want to be here with me when the people closest to her, the ones who likely didn't even know she was alive yet, were out there waiting for her?

I turned over the events of the day before in my head so many times that they felt like a wound I couldn't stop tearing open. What had I done wrong? What indication had I given to her that I didn't want her here? She had left, packed a bag and upped and walked out on me, and I had to accept that. The last thing she needed was to freeze with terror when she
saw another man in the street, and I refused to do that to her. She had been in a delicate state when she had arrived here, and this kind of acting out had always been a possibility, so I just had to let go and move on.

That morning, I felt as though I had been run over by a train, my entire body flattened against the tracks as I tried to figure out what the hell I was meant to do next. It felt as though little reminders of her were lying around the house for me like bear traps, wide open and waiting for me to step in and get all caught up all over again. A hairbrush she had used, some of the clothes I'd brought for her; still strewn out on the bed, the remnants of the bubble bath she had used the night before. It took me hours to check my phone. Jennie had no need of my number before, given that we were living together, so I saw no reason to glance over the screen to see if she had sent me a message. When I did click it on, I raised my eyebrows when I saw what was waiting for me a message from Irene. Now, there was a name I hadn't thought about in a while.

Three years since she had left me for someone else. We had dated for a long time, or what had felt like a long time. It was when we were both still in our early twenties - my mother had set us up. Irene's father, a wealthy old money businessman, had worked with my father on a project and my parents had caught on to the fact that they had a single daughter. Most of my mother's attempts to hook me up with various people went far awry, but I still had to show willing and turn up in the first place. So, like usual, I did as I was told and took Irene out on a date.

Much to my surprise, we had actually hit it off. Or so I had thought. Our parents were very happy about our union. As per them, we were a match made in heaven, but a few months down the line I realized the truth of it. Basically, in the first year of our relationship, I had chased her like a hopeless romantic praying on the fact that one day she would stop being so cold and aloof towards me. That one day I would see her warmer side, her love, and kindness. At the age I was back then - stupid twenty-something I believed that's all love was about. And I lavished her with my attention and garnered her with everything her heart desired.

But things never looked up with her. I still couldn't quite put my finger on the blur of bullshit that had gone down around the time our relationship had ended she had met someone else or some crap around it. I didn't care much then; I don't care at all now. She had that way about her, those sharp edges and that hardness, that let me know she was capable of doing anything she set her mind to. And I didn't mean that in the kindest way I could. I remembered the day she had left me, standing in the doorway of her apartment and glaring down at me as though this was somehow all my fault.