CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Harry visibly swallows and smiles tentatively. He slowly shakes his hand and then pulls it right back out from his grip. I feel dizzy and like I might die a thousand more deaths because I can’t focus on anything except blonde hair and blue eyes and the actual representation of Satan.
I need to talk to Harry, but I also need to escape because my ex boyfriend is here and I would’ve been just fine if I would have never seen him ever again, yet here he is, in my flat, with Harry’s sister.
God, I wonder if he remembers if this is my flat. What would he say? I don’t want to think about that, but for some reason I want him to acknowledge it, to feel the pain I’ve felt all these years. To know just how hard it is to be betrayed.
Harry invites them in and they sit down on the couch and Harry pulls some chairs from the kitchen table over because the flat is so small.
“Man, Harry, you weren’t lying when you said your flat was small.” Gemma muses from her spot on the couch right next to Alfie—Satan—and Harry’s mum. Harry is sitting next to his dad on a wooden chair from the kitchen.
Harry just laughs and nods, “Yeah, but it’s also cheap.”
They all laugh, I assume only because they haven’t seen each other in a while. Alfie perks up from his spot on the end of the couch, “You know, this kind of looks like the flat one of my old friend’s had.” Friend.
Harry stiffens, tries to relax but visibly cringes. He says, “Oh, you used to come here?” with a fake smile and subtly looks around the flat. I should snap my fingers or something but I’m too weak and too dizzy to do anything but try not to cry and faint.
“Yeah. Graduated four years ago.” Harry’s mouth drops in a gape, and, yeah, he knows for sure that this is the Alfie I was talking about. He quickly tries to reposition himself and nods. Alfie says something else.
“This was—this was my ex girlfriend’s old flat.” I fall over onto the floor and clutch my stomach, squeezing my eyes shut. This can’t be happening. This can’t be true.
Harry’s family laughs, but Harry stares Alfie down and Alfie slowly looks around the flat, like it somehow means anything to him. Of course he’s been here, but it doesn’t hold any significance to him in anyway if you acknowledge that whenever he was over, all he would try to do is force me into sex and multiple times he tried to steal items around my flat.
Gemma immediately stops laughing when she sees that Alfie is in no way amused. “What’s wrong, babe?” She asks softly, rubbing up and down his arms.
“She um—she committed suicide. Here.” He bites his finger and looks around the flat. I roll onto my back and half scoff, half sob from the tears running down my cheeks.
“Cry me a river.” I whisper, but Harry doesn’t hear.
What Harry does do is stand up abruptly, his hands bunched into fists. He looks like he’s about to punch Alfie in the face—which I can’t say I would mind—but instead he says, “I need to use the loo.”
He rushes off into the bathroom and I hear the soft words of his mum saying “Well that was weird” but it quickly fades into “I’m so sorry” directed at Alfie.
I can’t take the sob fest, so I slowly will myself to stand up and walk into the bathroom where Harry is sitting on the toilet with his hands covering his face. I snap my fingers and slide down the wall directly across from him.
Harry looks up, slightly surprised at first, but then he wipes at his face and whispers, “So, my sister is dating your ex.”
“Yeah.”
