The Neighbour

TWENTY-SEVEN

"You had no right to control my life like that," I respond, understanding that perhaps my reaction is less about Freddie and more about my own issues regarding Josh and what he did to me.

Freddie—hearing this—rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Did you just fucking sigh?" I ask.

He drops the cases and takes a step closer, approaching with cation. "Let me put Charlotte to bed."

"Answer the question," I demand.

"Yes, Ana, I sighed," he replies, tone clipped. "Can I please put Charlotte to bed now?"

I unfasten the harness and—careful not to take my anger out on my precious girl—hand her over. Without waiting, I then grab my suitcase and wheel it into my apartment, slamming the door closed behind me. I pace the length of my living room, desperately trying to get a handle of my emotions.

Am I overreacting?

I no longer feel anger towards the application situation. In a way, I understand why he did it. But he sighed. He fucking sighed when I told him his behaviour was controlling.

"Ana?" He knocks on the door. "Can I come in?"

I swing the door open, thoughts unfiltered.

"I'm surprised you asked."

He's carrying a baby monitor and uses his other—free—hand to rub at his tired eyes. "I'm sorry I lied."

"You're not sorry you did it in the first place?" I ask.

He steps forward, closing the gap between us. "Why would I apologise for getting you away from that prick?"

"For the reason I just told you," I say. "It's controlling, Freddie."

"I was trying to help!"

I know you were," I insist, matching his tone. "Your motive isn't the problem here."

"What is the problem then?"

"You sighed!" I yell. "You rolled your eyes and you fucking sighed. Like I was being irrational."

"You are being irrational."

This triggers me.

"Fuck you!"

"Anastasia—"

"Do you know how offensive that is?" I ask. "Knowing what I've been through."

"Baby, I know what you've been through is horrendous," he says, holding my cheeks between his hands. "But I'm not him. I'm not Josh. You can't keep comparing him to me."

"I'm not comparing you to him."

"Yes, you are," he replies, gently.

Am I?

"I need some air," I admit, stepping away from his comforting hold.

I don't know if I'm being unreasonable or if my feelings aren't being validated. Honestly, I've gone so long without thinking for myself, it's difficult to tell. Freddie is frustrated that I'm blowing things out of proportion. That I'm turning a minor incident into a fight. But I'm frustrated too. Frustrated that he can't see things from my perspective.

"Ana, please don't walk away," he pleads.

I ignore his requests.

"Baby."

"Maybe I'm not ready."

"What?"

His panicked reaction is not something I'm prepared to handle.