Part 3: The Pineapple Problem - Chapter 4

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"Where did we go so wrong, Serena?"

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"Where did we go so wrong, Serena?"

Oh, I wish I knew. These last few days, I've asked myself that a lot. Where did we go so wrong, because how long ago could I have known all this stuff, or how long have I gone without asking it and when was the right time to have asked it? When did this whole thing become work? When did being snippy with each other become so normal I forgot we were ever any other way?

Where did we go so wrong?

Zach sighs again and rubs his knuckles to his eyes before putting his glasses back on. I feel like I'm on the back foot, but I don't even know why, and I dither for a second, wringing my sweaty hands before deciding there's only one thing to do right now.

I move beside him, pick up the iPad, and sit down on the bed next to him.

I rest the iPad in my lap, and lean sideways until my head rests on his shoulder. I can smell Zach's aftershave on his shirt, and close my eyes for a second, drinking it in. I love the smell of his aftershave. I've always loved it.

I love how easy it's always been to just be with him. I used to dread a time when Friday nights in with a boyfriend would be catching up on Gogglebox and eating pasta bake on the sofa, instead of making plans to go out somewhere and do something, but it had never felt mundane, with Zach. It was part of the reason I was so happy to say yes when he suggested we move in together, after only being together for six months. It was part of the reason I got a new job nearer him, so eager to start our life together. Because if even the boring bits were that good, just think how incredible the good parts could be.

Zach's head tips to rest against mine.

"What happened, Sunday morning, Serena?" he asks me softly.

"You called me a psycho and decided to leave to go stay with your brother," I tell him. It comes out quiet and wobbly, which I really wasn't expected, and then I find myself sniffling. I gulp, not sure when this lump appeared in my throat.


I sniffle again, scrubbing the heel of my hand across my face before he can realise I'm crying. God, I know we have to at least talk about this, even if it's all over, and maybe now he's finally going to listen. So I say –

"You ordered pineapple pizza."

It hangs in the air between us for a while, the silence stretching out, pressing down around us.

Until, eventually, Zach laughs.

He pulls away from me so that he can look at me better. I refuse to raise my face to his, but out of the corner of my eye I can see the incredulous look on his face, the nervousness in his eyes when he laughs again.

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