Chapter Five

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5

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Let me come home to you Let me

come home to you again Don't let

me lose you too Your smile still

echoes through my head

*Topic - Home*

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BRADLEY'S POV

Now she is here and I finally have the chance to explain everything to her.
She asks: "So? What do you mean you did this for me?"
"As soon as I got the job at the BBC, I tried everything to convince all the authorities to make this documentary my only condition was, that you were involved."

"Why?" Her voice is only a whisper

"I needed something to find a way back to you. And I couldn't think of a better way as to let your wish come true."

"You didn't need to find a way BACK, when you haven't left, the way you did." She seems furious but I can see tears glistening in her eyes.

"I know, Emy, believe me, I know...if I could turn back time and change the mess I did, I would do it immediately. But I can't. The only thing I can do is try to explain and hoping for forgiveness."
I'm almost begging. I can feel my heart beating so strong, afraid of her reaction.

But she doesn't say anything, just staring back at me.
I try to reduce the distance between us.
All I want to do is touch her.
But she shows me to stop with her hands.

"No, I can't..."
I stop in my motion but I'm already so close I could touch her. I can even smell her scent.

"You hurt me so bad, it was fucking hard...

"It was for me too. But I had to make a decision over night and had to leave the following day.
I try to reach out for her hand again. This time she let me take her hand. And it feels like it ever did. Loaded with electricity. My whole body reacts to the heat of the touch.
Gladly I just hold her hand in mine and continue

"We have never talked about us at that time, we were never a couple official, but I knew, when I had let you know about, you maybe would give up your dream and that was something I didn't want to risk. Not for me."

"So, you make the decisions in my life? When I have to leave something behind or when I get a job like this?" she waves her hands around.

"No, of course not...I just couldn't tell you because it was too dangerous. I could not live with myself, putting you in danger, just because of me."

She looks at me, I can tell she has no clue. Of course, she hasn't.

"What do you mean, dangerous?"

"Back then, I had a small job as a writer for small magazine. And one day, the Time Magazine phoned me. They read my stuff and wanted me to write a column."

"I can't see anything dangerous there."
Of course, she can't.

"I'm not done... it was a column about the war in Libya. I had to stay there for a year. I was at an American station, I interviewed the soldiers, the people who lived there, took photos and of course I had to write a lot of stuff. Mobiles were forbidden, so that no one could locate this station. It was interesting, but also scary. I was only allowed to tell my parents where I was."

This is not what she expected. I can tell by the look in her eyes that she was ready to get an extremely lame excuse, but not anything like this.
She just takes a seat on one of the chairs near the window.

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