Time.
It's meant to heal all wounds.
At least that's what people say.
The proverb has been used for over two thousand years and was first attributed to the Greek poet Menander who lived around three hundred B.C.
It's been around long enough for it to hold some weight, but I don't buy it. You don't get to sit around, put in zero effort and work, and wait for the time fairies to mend every emotional thing wrong with you.
That's not how it works. That's not how life works.
Unless it was meant in a physical aspect – can't be though.
Time heals all wounds is often said to people who are going through an emotionally tough time in an effort to make them feel better.
The assumption is that given enough time, the pain of a particularly hurtful experience or a disastrous exchange of painful words will fade away. There's nothing about it being physical and there's nothing about it being true.
Time is an important aspect of healing but time itself doesn't heal.
Time allows for reflection on what you went through in a way which offers you, insight, and the ability to move on.
That's if you can get passed the bitterness and resentment and let go enough to focus on your healing.
I however can't.
I thought I could do it, but forgiveness is a foreign concept to my heart and time has become my enemy. The days have gone by so quickly. The week barely begins, and the weekend is upon me.
I've barely had time to collect my thoughts and October has come and gone in a blink of an eye. Life is one big shitshow and it feels like just yesterday when I walked out of Tracey's bar. To think it's been two months since that night.
Two months and I still haven't looked back, trying to ignore the pain which is still so raw.
God. I wish I looked back.
It's one of the things I regret more than anything – not looking back.
I knew if I looked back, I would never leave. In that moment of anger, hurt and uncertainty, I wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind.
I wish I took a second, a minute, an hour to process it all before making a rash decision.
I can't go back though. I can't turn back the hands of time. I can't rewind. I can't start over at my last checkpoint where the game automatically saved my progress.
Even if I could, I can't. Not with the heaviness in my heart.
"Can we talk?" Her voice infiltrates my thoughts like a parasite, but I ignore the sickly-sweet sound.
I take a bigger than usual sip of my red wine. A harmonious fusion of ripe red fruit, earthy undertones, and delicate floral aromas coats my tongue after the bitterness fades.
I've never been much a wine drinker. I'm a firm believer that wine needs to be respected. It can either go straight to head or easily be enjoyed. Depending on the consumer.
For me it depends on my situation and my current one is bleak. Disrespecting wine could lighten the mood and embarrass me – yay, fun.
"When's the wedding?" A woman asks, but I don't remove my gaze from my gold-plated cutlery reflecting the flickering orange flame of multiple candles illuminating the dining table.
"The wedding will take place after Telana has completed the internship within my company," her commanding voice does little to prevent me from nearly choking on my green bean casserole.
I drop my cutlery down on my barely touched plate of thanksgiving dinner prepared by some swanky chef missing his family. I grab my fancy-schmancy glass of wine and gulp the liquid down like the cheapest wine in a liquor store.
"Excuse you?" I ask as my gaze connects with Candice's hard stare.
"Mom," Justin says warningly, Candice's gaze softening briefly as she looks at him.
"We have discussed this in length, son."
"And I gave you, my answer. It's no, mother."
"More wine anyone?" Justin's aunt gets to her feet as Candice parts her lips with a calculated response on the tip of her tongue. The words would've been brutal. I can see it in her azure eyes as she glares at her sister.
"I'm sorry, love," Justin whispers in my ear.
I force a smile onto my lips as a tsunami of nostalgia carries me away. I miss the warmth of thanksgiving at home.
I miss my mama's turkey and stuffing. I miss daddy's creamy mashed potatoes and delicious pecan pie. I miss Tracey's homemade cranberry sauce and dinner rolls right out of the oven.
I miss sneaking out with Alec to privately celebrate another thanksgiving together. We'd slow dance under a blanket of stars in his mama's backyard and play a silly game of thumb war just like when we were kids.
I miss all the loud chatter, the boisterous laughter and the unconditional love which filled my home. I miss the jokes and the moment of silence we took in honor of Zach, Alec's father. Most of all I miss my family.
Fuck. I really wish I looked back.
Tonight, is cold in comparison with two servers topping up wine glasses of close friends and a few distant family members whether our glasses are empty or not.
Three kids under the age of ten sit quietly by the large dining table too afraid to utter a word as accomplishments get bragged about in an effort to fill the silence our encounter has left. Smug smiles line their curious faces, not a sound of laughter to be heard.
Candice is having a heated conversation with Justin's aunt. She has the same blue eyes as Candice except hers holds a welcoming warmth. I can't remember her name. Macy, Maureen. It's something with an M. M&M'S will do.
"What was she talking about?" I grit out in a harsh whisper as anger slowly begins to take a hold of me.
"Not here," he whispers into his glass with pleading eyes.
In response I raise my glass to my lips, gulping the wine down. "Excuse me," I say, scraping my chair back.
Silence befalls the table, every set of eyes following me out of the dining room as my silver Louboutin pumps click against the marble floor.
"Rachel, don't."
Are the last words spoken before I push open the doors, allowing them to swing closed behind me. I head towards the foyer, nearly bumping into a table adorning a beautiful crystal vase with a stunning arrangement of flowers in an assortment of colors.
"Wait," Rachel's voice echoes in the foyer.
I sigh deeply, staring up at the high ceiling with the finest crystal chandelier illuminating the grandeur double staircase. I'm so far out of my element.
The light reflects off the newly polished black banisters, the color contrasting beautifully against the stark white walls.
I don't turn around, facing the glass doors with intricate swirls in black, made of steel and wood. I see her reflection in the panes of glass, her elegant orange dress flowing seamlessly down her misshaped reflection.
"Can we talk?"
"I've got nothing to say to you," I reiterate for the umpteenth time since returning to New York.
"You can forgive him but not me?" She asks with an edge of frustration. "Never mind, just listen then. In the spirit of thanksgiving, I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for giving him another chance. He really loves you; Lana and I know your choice has made him happy."
"Who said I forgave him?" I peer at her over my shoulder, barely looking at the girl who was once my best friend.
Someone I wrongfully trusted.
"Oh, I just assumed."
"Our relationship has nothing to do with you," I say coldly. The unrecognizable sound of my voice scaring me.
I turn to look at her, "do you regret what you did?" I ask the question which has been plaguing my mind.
Her gaze drops to the ground without an ounce of guilt present. Not in her body language, eyes, or face.
"And that's why I can't forgive you," I scoff as her eyes shoot to mine. I turn my back on her placing my hand on the doorknob. "Given another opportunity, you'd do it all again."
Her morphed expression drops as I open the door and step out into the wintry night air.
I want to scream out in anger and frustration at my current situation. I want to drill Justin for answers but at the same time, I don't.
None of it seems to matter.
Candice, Justin, Rachel. None of it.
What a crock of bullshit.
Of course, it matters. If it didn't, I'd still be in there pretending to enjoy myself.
What gets to me the most is Justin hiding things from me which pertains to me. What angers me is the dictatorship about our wedding. What pisses me off is Candice thinking she has a say in it at all. What really grinds my tits is the fact Justin didn't mention Rachel would be here.
She didn't even get an honorable mention while I was preparing for a disastrous but functioning evening which ended with polite gratitude and forced smiles.
In fact, we barely spoke about tonight. He deflected every time I brought up the subject. I should've fucking known.
A strong gust of wind whips my curled hair to the left and my breath hitches as the frigid coldness bites at my bare skin.
I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to shield myself but it's futile.
I walk on the grass along the driveway, my heels sinking into Candice's perfectly manicured lawn. "Get that, bitch," I whisper, spitefully digging my heel deeper.
Rest in peace Louboutin.
"Love?"
I whip around, hating how attractive he looks with the lights from inside emitting around him in an otherworldly glow. Couldn't he have been unattractive and not so appealing? I'm angry with him and his gorgeousness is ruining my anger.
Focus, Lana. Stop thinking with your pussy and use your damn brain.
"You knew she'd be here," I accuse, stepping onto the smooth driveway with heels caked in mud. "And what damn internship?" I pick up my pace trembling from the cold.
"Can you please stop?" His dress shoes tap against the driveway as he speeds up, but I don't stop.
I keep walking, internally screaming I should've looked back.
"I didn't know she would be here," he pops up in front of me, halting my steps. "After all the progress we've made, do you really believe I would willingly agree to this evening knowing she would be here?"
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I shrug his hands off of my arms. "Clearly you're still keeping things from me."
He removes his jacket, placing the warm material around my shoulders. "Let's not discuss concealing things from one another," his gaze darkens. "You kept a marriage from me for years and I forgave you."
"You wouldn't have been so keen on forgiveness if you didn't kiss Rachel," I fire back.
"This isn't us starting over," he sighs. "Let's try again. I didn't tell you about the internship because it doesn't matter, love."
"You're right," I admit, sheepishly. "Why doesn't it matter?" I ask, leaning into him with a deep sigh.
"I fought against the idea, and I will continue to fight against it. You will pursue your career and accomplish your dreams, love."
"Thank you," I whisper.
"What do you say we get out of here and spend the rest of this night our way?"
"I'd love that," I smile, pecking his lips.
That was one of the best decisions we could have made. He drove us home. He wrapped me in a blanket before starting a fire. He made us hot chocolate with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows.
It's genuinely the happiest I felt since returning. It was the first time I felt grateful for not looking back as Justin ravished me lovingly that night.
I was on such a high. He put me on such a high.
A high I crave to feel again. A high I long to feel invade my senses. A high I haven't felt since thanksgiving.
Even through forced laughter and smiles and subpar sexual encounters. That same high evades me.
When I close my eyes and replay memories from my past with Alec like an old, faded movie. I get a hint of it but nowhere near enough to satiate me and fill the gaping void inside of me.
Every day since is just another day of me convincing myself I made the right decision to leave Tybee. Every day since is me trying to hold onto the feeling of being grateful for not looking back but it's slipped through my fingers.
All I have left is the remnants of it clutched in my grasp but if I open my hand. There won't be anything there aside from a mere figment of my imagination.
The heaviness in my heart hasn't lessened. Time hasn't improved it, and I haven't bothered to put in the work.
Truth be told it feels as though I'm living a massive lie. I'm living a life which doesn't belong to me. Heck, it doesn't. If I weren't in Justin's life, Rachel would be and not as his friend. And if he weren't in mine, I would be back home with my husband.
It's delusional thinking of a woman trying to be happy with a man she chose to stay with. I'm trying my best to make our relationship work but happiness eludes me.
Anger and sadness encapsulate me. Anger being the more prevalent emotion to dominate and drive my moods and reactions.
Our relationship as of late has been taking strain and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to get back what we had before I returned home and realized I'm still in love with Alec.
I can't reignite the flame between us which could once burn towns to the ground. It used to burn so bright and hot. Now it's a dying flame flickering in a strong gust of wind barely able to stay alight and I don't know how to keep it alive.
I'm drowning, suffocating, desperate for a reprieve that's never going to come.
I don't know what I'm doing anymore or why.
"Telana majored in arts and business," Candice's disdainful voice fills my ears, blocking out the soft Christmas music.
"Arts are a waste," Mr. Wong says curtly. A high-ranking board member.
"I shan't argue," she sips her dry red wine – as dry as her personality. "Going forward her primary focus will be business for the remainder of their engagement. Her silly pursuit of the arts won't be a factor anymore."
Mrs. Wong subtly shoots me a pitiful gaze filled with understanding as I bite down on my teeth.
"Do you disagree?" She asks Justin, raising a perfectly sculpted brow in challenge.
"I believe Lana should be able to choose her own path, mother," Justin squeezes my hand beneath the table reassuringly.
Candice shoots us a look of disapproval, refocusing her attention back on Mr. Wong. "Once they are married, Telana will be taking care of her husband and the heir to our company."
"That's enough!" Justin's voice raises in a way I've never heard before with his mom. "We will get married when we choose to, and Telana will decide her future. You don't have a say in the matter. C'mon, we're leaving," he takes my hand, and a jolt of desire surges to my core for the first time in weeks.
"Who knows, we might just elope right now!" Justin fumes, dragging me behind him.
My heels click loudly against the pristine floors of the banquet hall in The Blossoming Rose Hotel in Manhattan. The beige walls of the hall turn to champagned colored walls lined with art.
My gaze travels over his body clad in a black tailored suit and I swear my vagina whistles. It's been a while since I've felt this way when I look at him.
He stops dead in front of the elevator, hitting the button aggressively.
"Stop," I grip his hand tightly.
His eyes fill with concern as he cups my cheek. "I'm sorry love." The elevator opens, annoying elevator music humming as we step in, but it does little to diminish the unabashed desire I feel.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I prevent him from saying anything further, pushing him up against the wall.
I'm unable to recall the last time I initiated sex. I crash my lips against his roughly, feeding into the desire spreading through my body. I weave my fingers through his hair, tugging.
His arms circle my waist, squeezing me impossibly closer. Our tongues move together sensually, passionately.
The little flame barely burning spreads through me, growing stronger. I go with it, living in the moment before I lose the fleeting feeling coursing through my veins.
I grab his erection tightly in my hand as I nibble on his bottom lip. The elevator dings open and we look at the doors revealing an elderly couple. The woman stares at us with wide eyes, prominent wrinkles seeming to fade before our eyes.
Who I assume to be her husband, nods his head in approval, preventing his wife from stepping into the elevator.
The doors begin to close, and we laugh like we haven't laughed together since we got engaged. Our laughter fades as he pushes his hand through his hair, the strands weaving between his fingers. His suit jacket strains against his arm, sending a wave of hunger through me.
I smash my lips against his once more, trying more than anything to stoke the fire between us until it's an out-of-control blaze threatening to burn us in seconds.
He turns us around, slamming my back against the cold metal wall and I gasp in surprise. He rakes his hand down my body, coming to rest against my breast, teasing my erect nipple through the silky fabric of my golden dress.
The doors ding open momentarily forcing us apart long enough to cross the threshold of the elevator into our suite.
I unzip my dress allowing the silky material to slide down my body with ease and pool at my feet. I peel away the nipple covers with a pleasurable wince.
I jump into his arms, wrapping my thighs around him. I weave my fingers through his hair gazing into his ravenous orbs. "Take me right here," I shudder as he squeezes my bare ass.
"Anything for you," he whispers seductively trailing hot wet kisses down my throat.
I unhook my legs, allowing my feet to touch the warm tiles. He lowers to his knees, easing my right leg over his shoulder.
Without warning he buries his face between my lips, plunging his tongue into me multiple times before trailing his tongue to my clit.
He sucks my sensitive nub into his mouth and I'm ready to lose my shit.
Alec, my mind moans but I force Justin's name to pass my lips instead. "Justin, please," I beg almost pathetically. "Fuck me until I cum."
But he doesn't stop his mouth's ruthless assault as he pins me against the wall. He inserts his fingers inside of me until I'm a blubbering, moaning mess.
My legs tremble, my stomach coils, my moans getting stuck in my throat. I'm on the verge of release, my pussy clenching and pulsating around his fingers.
An animalistic groan escapes me as he removes his fingers right before I reach a new high along with his mouth.
He unzips his trouser, dropping it to his ankles. "How do you want it?" He asks, stroking his cock.
"I don't care," I lick my lips as precum drips to the floor.
He releases his impressive erection, pinning me to the wall, and digging his fingers below my ass. I jump, wrapping my legs around him, his hardness sliding between my lips.
He adjusts his dick, teasing my entrance before pounding into me. The vigorous motion leaves me breathless. My almost orgasm has left me more sensitive. The sensation of his thrusting hips has me panting like an asthmatic dog.
My tender nipples brush against his clothed chest, the subtle pain fusing with the gratification his skillful cock inflicts on me.
"Ahh," we moan concomitantly as he pounds harder, the sound of skin smacking skin somehow aiding in my bliss. I close my eyes, the sensations becoming overwhelming.
"Oh, God." –Alec– "Justin," I moan, ignoring the annoying voiceover in my head. I open my eyes, gazing into his hooded eyes.
I wish I could say I see Justin's blue irises overflowing with lust. The shade of blue would be brighter, electric compared to the normal shade, but I don't see it.
Swirls of green and blue dominated by desire gaze back into my eyes causing my heart to flutter out of control.
The sight awakens every nerve ending in my body, intensifying my pleasure. Satiating my carnality.
My stomach coils tightly, my arms and legs stiffen. I dig my nails into his shoulders, no air entering my lungs as my mouth remains open with ragged moans escaping.
I clench around him, my ears buzzing and blocking, my vision blurring.
My orgasm explodes through me, thrusting me blindingly into euphoria. I convulse like a squirrel on crack, releasing weeks, months of pent-up frustration in one fell swoop.
The high I kept chasing found me.
But just like narcotics, the effects are momentary.
It isn't everlasting and once more it leaves me craving the adrenaline, the high, the happiness I felt in that moment.
They say time is meant to heal all wounds but all it's done for me is make me realize something so incredibly significant.
I should've looked back.
A/N: She's returned to New York and Justin, leaving behind Tybee once more. Nothing has been resolved and it's clear she regrets it but do you think our girl is going to do something about it?
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