Against All Odds

Chapter 3

It felt like a punch to my lungs, how that realisation had smarted.

And that photo had seared itself into my memory to reignite any insecurities that may linger in my mind, especially around Killian Beckett.

Which is why it was making a grand reintroduction presently, as I sat before him with my clunky naked thighs and backside on full display, when not a few months ago a beautifully flawless woman had been wrapped around him.

It floated across the rippling screens of my memory, barging to the forefront of my mind with a clarity that made my fingers tighten around the coffee cup.

The happy couple had posed against a breath-taking vista in Santorini, the whitewashed patio of the restaurant glistening in the sunlight. He had his arm around her tiny waist, her auburn hair caught in a stiff breeze so that it lifted and froze the sleek curls in a suspended movement for eternity. She was beautiful in a white summer dress that accentuated how perfect and put-together she was.

And showcased to purposefully emphasise the import of the photo- a gigantic diamond ring on her left hand.

It had stung.

But not as much as the fact that this tiny woman had succeeded where I had failed.

Killian had travelled.

A quick scour over Amber's Facebook profile soon told me that they travelled often.

The arguments, the begging and pleading, had come back to me in a tidal wave of bitterness. I was the one who wanted to leave, to explore, to see the world and settle in different countries. I was the one who pushed him to live, to seek help for the traumatic event of his past that prevented him from stepping foot on planes.

I was the one he wouldn't budge for.

What was it they always said?

A man will make the effort for the woman he wants to? Or something like that.

Still, as I sat there on the edge of the bed with these thoughts ravaging my mind, his eyes took in my naked thighs and there was a twitch in his jaw that now harboured a short stubble.

In our youth, he was prone to allowing his beard to grow out, softening the rigid lines of his chin. I found myself missing that now, his face seeming unforgivingly hard as he considered my half-naked form.

"Uhm..." I broke his trance, his eyes flying up to meet mine, and I swear his cheeks flushed. I could see his skin darken even in the dim light of the room.

"Right." He cleared his throat awkwardly and did a 180, staggering back outside. "Decided I don't need the phone," he managed to grit out before the door slammed shut once more, leaving me alone.

My chest inexplicably tight, I found myself unconsciously tracing a shadow of a memory on the ring finger of my left hand...

Where once, for a very brief time, my own simple, unassuming ring sat.

***

Six Years Ago

I flung my scarf off and draped it across the mirror of my recycled vanity, avoiding my reflection. Next, I worked the studs out my ears- there were numerous of them to occupy my jerky, shaking hands, keeping me busy so I did not have to focus on the weight circling my ring finger.

"Come on, Stels," Killian said from behind me. I caught his reflection from the corner of my eye, noting the way he was shrugging out of his jacket.

Our apartment was tiny with just enough space to house a double bed and a lounge set. It wasn't much, but I had kitted it out with an array of pot plants intent on dying on me. A variety of colourful prints hung in cheap frames on the walls, old movie posters and records of our favourite artists interspersed among these. I had just started working a year ago, securing my first position as an elementary teacher in a small private school in the city, while Killian completed the two years needed for his masters.