Mia was enchanted in the ring's flawlessness, its yellow diamond glimmering under the minimal sunlight that surfaced the room. Tucked comfortably between the velvet padding, the silver band stared back at her, as if it could smile, and it only made her wonder: how something so beautiful could come from a man so obnoxious.
Richard still held it in his hand, ready to snap it shut in a heartbeat. He was also prepared to throw it out the window, if that would satisfy Mia's wishes, but to no avail; she took it from him after a minute of silence, and placed it in front of her on the counter.
She felt her breathing hitch as the tension prolonged. "Wow," she whispered. "He wasn't kidding."
Richard tamed himself to avoid reacting impulsively. A part of him wanted to roll his eyes; another part ready to get down on his own knee for future's sake, but they were silly thoughts. Juvenile, too childish for him to even consider, and yet they still needled him to the bone.
"You don't seem surprised." She realized that her tears had stopped falling, and it allowed her to look at him intently. "You don't seem to feel anything at all, Richard. So how did you know?"
He sighed and looked down at his hands, tapping his fingertips against the marble. "He told me."
"When?"
"When I met him." Richard took in deep breaths that could be heard loudly, clearly, like an overworked piece of machinery. He was very close to swallowing his words down instead of engaging in conversation; it wasn't his favorite topic to discuss.
Mia never touched the ring itself. She never placed a finger on it, never letting her skin feel the edges of the gem encrusted with stones. It was tempting to try it on, there was a pulse deep within her, but she couldn't allow herself to. She knew that it would only cause more pain.
"That's an odd thing to talk about," she said with an uneasy chuckle. "An odd thing to bring up."
Richard shrugged. "I agree, but it's one of the first things he said to me very clearly." He looked at her again with a narrowed gaze. "Very clearly."
"That he was going to propose to me." The sentence came out more as a statement rather than a question. Mia kept imagining a proposal in her head; maybe on a beach, or at their favorite restaurant. Maybe in the middle of Central Park, maybe on the footsteps of her apartment door. She didn't know, she didn't want to know what had been planned, and she knew that she had to stop caring about it or else she'd investigate it herself.
She closed the box and placed it aside, sliding it to the furthest end of the table. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater and sniffled, wiping away the remnants of what had been left of her gloom. She stood up.
"I'm gonna head out," she said, patting the pockets of her jeans for her phone. "Alone. I hope you don't mind."
Richard shook his head. "Go ahead. You sure?"
"Yep." Mia grabbed her keys near the door and turned the knob. "Please feel at home, Richard. I'll be back soon."
"Oka–"
Mia quickly left before she heard him respond. She walked forward toward the elevators, but made a sharp left before reaching them, choosing to take the stairs instead. She felt like she was going to vomit if she stood still, and the amount of adrenaline she wanted to feel was best described as a heated desire to grab a glass and sabotage her sober state. But then the imaginary taste of alcohol on her tongue made her gag even more, so she ran down the echoing steps, feeling her knees struggle to keep up with her speed.
There were questions that spun around in her mind like windmills during a storm. Why, why, why? Crisis after crisis, she felt that the world had abandoned her right when she needed it most, and it manifested clearly in her heartbeat, her heartache, and her heart's immobility to accommodate everything that happened to her in the past day. Like a sponge that didn't live up to its purpose, her heart couldn't absorb much thought, what more the possibility that had sailed by in a blink: getting married. To Brett? She wanted to at some point in her life.
Maybe she was all ready to, in fact. She had dreamt of it once, maybe twice, maybe on far more occasions than that of what she could ever admit aloud, but she knew that the vision had vanished. It was, at least, distorted. A blur of colors, a reflection of her own emotions.
Mia wasn't very good at meditating, but she knew how to distract herself. She exited her apartment building without acknowledging the doorman. That was odd, Don thought, but she had already looked pale to him earlier, and perhaps it was just another one of those days.
She didn't know where she was going. The afternoon sun managed to peek through the tall buildings to provide her a spotlight, warming her up as she walked along the busy sidewalk. She only had one companion: her shadow. It appeared slumped, sinking into itself as Mia knew that her posture had gone rogue, making her shoulders strain beneath the graceless curve.
Her hand kept checking her pocket for her phone even though she knew that it was always there. There was a drum inside of her conscience that irked her to call him, Brett, just to hear him say it himself: Will you marry me? The way he had expressed it to her before just wasn't the same as the actual question.
She wasn't in the process of surrendering on her knees to return to him, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to know how she'd feel, if she'd be more angry than sad, or more flattered than furious. A firm no was always the answer, but she still had her doubts. She believed in forgiveness, but she wasn't going to absentmindedly give it to him, and the thought of his betrayal only heightened her nerves once more, securing the firm no again. Confidently. Absolutely.
No.
Mia turned the corner but stopped in her tracks, tempering the few people who hurried behind her. She noticed the sudden shift in the atmosphere: this street was quieter, less traffic on the road. She realized where she was, and she turned around, knowing that if she were to continue forward, she'd end up at Brett's apartment. That just wasn't going to be an option for her, and she wasn't going to make it one either. She yielded away, back to the noise.
—•—•—
Richard hadn't moved an inch. He checked the digital clock mounted on the wall, its red numbers precise against the plain, white wall. It had been hours since Mia left, and the sunlight was slowly turning into a rich orange, a nod to the nearing evening. It only worried him even more.
Had it been up to him, he would have followed her out, just to make to sure that she wasn't set on doing anything drastic. What if she was drunk, wandering around the city, aimlessly? But he knew that she needed some space, and that was why he remained calm and finished a nap on the breakfast counter minutes before.
Grabbing the stool under him, he stood up and carried it out into the balcony. The wind was cooler now, but the clangor of the urban jungle remained the same. He took a seat and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, immediately lighting it up and placing it between his lips. Leaning against the railing, he huffed in the nicotine, feeling his chest rise with a tug. It was merely a temporary solution, or distraction, to his never-ending drama.
Mia came home a few minutes later, noticing the tall figure straightaway as she walked through the door. It was a struggle: carrying two large boxes of pizza as her keys carelessly wrapped around her knuckles; but she managed, closing the door behind her before placing the food down in the kitchen.
She glanced at the ring that still sat where she had left it. What to do with you? she thought, but she saved it for another day. She headed for the balcony, sliding the glass panel carefully as not to disturb him. Richard didn't notice.
"Hey," she said softly. "Can I have one?"
Richard peered to his right and watched as Mia leaned against the railing herself, gazing down at the street below. He raised an eyebrow.
"You don't smoke," he said. "Not anymore, anyway."
"Exactly." She opened her hand.
Hesitantly, he took out a pack and retrieved a stick, placing it atop her palm. He shook his head disapprovingly as she brought it to her lips.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Mi," he warned as he lent her a lighter. "It's been too long. You might relapse."
"And yet here you are, giving it to me." She lit the cigarette and breathed it in, remembering the taste fondly. It made her smile a bit. "Just one."
"Are we even allowed to smoke up here?"
She chuckled. "You're asking me that now? It's a bit too late."
The sun was setting fast, its rays glaring against the windows of the buildings ahead. It irritated Mia's eyes, so she turned around, letting the metal dig into her lower back. Richard only followed, swiveling around in his stool. They spoke as they observed their dark silhouettes reproduced on the glass.
"I'm sorry for leaving earlier. That was rude." She studied Richard's position, the way he sat with one foot on the stool's rest while the other remained firmly on the ground. "I just needed a walk."
"I know. Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere, honestly. I bought some pizza, though. It's on the table."
He nodded as he held the cigarette, looking around for an ash tray. None were in sight, but Mia caught on with this and stepped forward, sliding the door open again. She kept a foot steadied inside, on the hardwood, while the other remained on the balcony. She reached over to her desk and grabbed a glass dish, handing it to him afterward.
"Here. It'll do," she said, returning to her original position.
"Thanks. So, how are you feeling now?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know." She tapped on the end of the stick as it hovered over the ash, the dish in Richard's hand. "I really don't know."
"I hate to bring it up again, but you didn't seem too surprised yourself." He cleared his throat and sat up straight, awkwardly, like he knew that he shouldn't have said a word. "Did you know?"
"Yeah," she breathed, remembering the lines Brett had cried to her when he said that he wanted to get married. "He told me yesterday."
Richard tried to lighten up the situation. "Well, that's a drag."
She bit down on her bottom lip as she responded, "You bet. Finding out your boyfriend's gonna propose to you before doing it? What a blow." There was a playfulness to her tone that she didn't want to unleash. "A low, low blow."
"Don't tell me that's what you fought about yesterday, apart from the obvious."
"Not just that, of course." She shook her head. "I haven't told you yet, have I? He said he did it to make some extra money for our supposed future." She sighed. "Or whatever. He did make up that story, too. About you being a third party and all. Confirmed by the devil himself. I'm so sorry, Richard."
He jammed the rest of his cigarette into the makeshift ash tray and watched smoke slither out of the butt. "You're not the one who should be apologizing," he reminded. "And just to lay down the facts, it doesn't bother me as much as it bothers you. I mean, it upsets me, but it's harder for you. So again, don't worry."
"You're caught in this web of shit, Richard. You never asked for it."
"We never ask for a lot of things, do we?" He held the tray down, supporting it on his knee. "Life would be boring if we always get what we want, don't you think?"
She turned away from the glass in front of them and smiled down at him, resisting a giggle. He was shorter than her now, only because he was sitting, but the tips of his hair still found themselves just above her collarbone.
"Did you get that from a movie?" she teased. "That's very nice."
"That's what you get from literature. I did study Shakespeare," he said with a grin.
"I also studied Shakespeare, and from what I remember, I did better than you."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Theatre, Mi. Not just high school."
The two laughed in unison, recalling the late night reads that had more to do with banter rather than knowledge.
"What would you have said?" he asked quietly, stirring the moment.
"Hmm?" She had heard him, but didn't know what he meant.
"Would you have said yes?"
Mia lowered her head and stared at the doorframe. It was dusty, she realized. Dirty and weathered, and she couldn't point toward the last time she had cleaned it. Her thoughts jumbled away like blocks.
"I don't know. I don't think so."
"Hypothetically, of course. Let's say he wasn't a dick. What would you have said?"
"Probing," she spat, uncomfortably. "You're probing."
"Sorry. I'm just curious."
She finished her stick and disposed it into the dish, taking it from him and placing it on the ground, by her feet. "Honestly..." She let the few final puffs escape her lips. "I probably would have said yes."
Richard didn't react. He wasn't shocked at all, but the news delivered low spirits.
"I loved him," she continued. "I still do, and I shouldn't. I hate it. I hate this feeling. It reminds me so much of—" She stopped speaking abruptly. Her lips pressed together as she didn't dare finish her words.
The feeling reminded her of the time Richard had told her that he couldn't love her beyond friendship. That after expressing her affection, Mia had ultimately been rejected by the one person who had always been special to her. A reality she squelched and had moved on from much time ago, with nothing short of its own struggles.
"Of what?" Richard asked.
"Nothing, never mind." She shoved it aside. "I lost my train of thought."
"'Kay," he replied, ignoring it as well. "Can I ask you one last question?"
She welcomed it. "You're gonna ask it, regardless. And a hundred more."
"Fair." He ran his hand through his hair out of habit. "What are you gonna do with the ring? It's quite a stunner."
Mia sighed. "Dunno. Maybe if I store it somewhere far enough, I'll forget about it." She chuckled. "And when I move out, my landlord will find it and pawn it at a shop across the street."
He raised an eyebrow. "With a fireplace and a balcony in a city like this? I don't wanna know the rent, but I'd never leave."
"It won't be long, I hope." Her smile faded away as she heeded the normalcy in his tone. She had forgotten that he didn't know what she was hinting. "Right, I haven't told you yet..."
"Your rent? In this economy?"
She nudged his shoulder with her elbow. "No!" she exclaimed with a giggle. "I'm moving. Well, it's not official yet, but it's in the process... ish."
"Process-ish?"
"Tanya offered me a job at the magazine's sister network. Overseas. Guess where!"
He hummed. "Hmm... I really wanna say Paris so that I have more excuses to go there."
"How I wish." She placed her hands on her chest, holding them together in character. "But no. Head north."
"Amsterdam?"
"Uh, no, but that's another one on my Pinterest board," she joked. "A little to the west."
"Barcelona?" He looked upward, as if the sky had the means to help him. "Wait no, that doesn't seem right."
"That's a bit far off."
"I think I'm going to end up sounding like a fool if you keep me guessing. Where?"
She held her hand out in front of him and formed an L with her thumb and forefinger. Richard nodded.
"Ah, Luxembourg is beautiful. You're gonna love it! When do you leave, Mi?"
She groaned in defeat. "God, Richard. London!" She waved the L in front of him. "I'm moving back to London," she said proudly.
"No way..." It felt like a boulder was lifted off his chest, a wave of winsome energy illuminating through him. "When?"
"Dunno yet. Within the month, I hope. I have yet to finalize it at work." She placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "I could live near you."
"Or..." He placed his own hand over hers. "While you search for a flat, you can stay with me. If you want to, of course."
"That would be..." Like old times, she wanted to say. "Lovely. I'll let you know the details soon."
Mia smiled down at him and pulled her hand away, turning around to head back inside. She looked over her shoulder and tilted her head, motioning for him to follow.
"Pizza'll get cold," she said. "Come on."
Richard stood up and followed her, sliding the door shut behind him as he took in a whiff of New York's finest thin crust. He jested at the two large boxes just as she opened one.
"What are we, feeding an army?" he kid. He helped Mia search for plates, but then found that it was silly.
They had never used plates with pizza. Not when they were eating together, anyway. Not when it was takeout, perfectly secured in a box meant to be utilized to the brim.
She held two white plates in her hands just as she closed a drawer with her hip. He stared at her antagonistically. "Really, Mia?"
She froze and pouted. "What?"
"We always eat out of the box."
"On the sofa?"
He scrunched his nose and swung his head back in confusion. "Yeah, you wanna eat on the sofa? I'm down."
"My sofa, Madden? What color is my sofa?"
"Ehm..." Richard inched away like a child caught in the midst of his tomfoolery. He got her point. "White."
She handed him a plate. Richard chuckled as he carried it away, along with the pizza box, to the quaint living room. Mia stayed put and fished out two beer bottles from her refrigerator. She popped off the caps and joined him afterward.
As they ate, Richard stared at the blank wall above her fireplace displeasingly, knowing that something was missing. "Is there a good enough reason for you not to have a telly in here?" he asked.
She swiftly swallowed her food to answer. "I write in here a lot and get distracted. Telly's in the bedroom."
"Makes sense." He took a sip of his beer, washing down the crumbs of dough and grease.
"You can take the bed, by the way. It's either that or a sleeping bag on my hardwood floor."
"I can sleep here," he said, patting the cushion beneath him. "It's comfortable."
"Well, I actually wanted to sleep here because I plan on finishing some work tonight." She tilted her head toward the desk in the corner. "I insist, really."
"Whatever you want, then."
Just as the two indulged in each other's company, Mia's phone rang in her pocket. She carefully placed her plate onto the coffee table in front of her and used her oilless hand to check it.
Brett.
She declined the call and continued her dinner. "Not today."
A moment passed before Richard opened his mouth to speak, but her phone rang again. Same number, same caller. Same tap to the red circle on the left of her screen.
"Wouldn't it be fun to fuck with him and let me answer it instead?" he taunted naughtily. "He'd probably go mad and write up another story of me, I don't know, being a cellphone thief all of a sudden. Secretly smuggling them into prisons."
"That's gallus coming from you," she said with a chuckle. "He's jealous, you know."
"Yeah? Because I'm always with you, int it?"
"Among other things," she replied. "That was his motive."
"I see..." As the crust crunched between his teeth, Richard unexpectedly felt regretful. Maybe if he hadn't reentered her life, she wouldn't be going through such a mess. But that wasn't his fault. It was beyond his control, beyond Mia's, and it had always just been a coincidence that they'd cross paths unknowingly, but favorably.
Her phone rang again. She scoffed at the absence of the decline option now, a feature that left her at a disadvantage. "I'm just going to turn it off," she said, doing so. "It's better this way."
—•—•—
Mia wrapped a towel around her hair as she felt relieved to have finally freshened up after an eventful weekend. She slipped into a pair of pale yellow shorts and tied the pink garter into place. She pulled a loosely fitted blue shirt over her head and grabbed the remote off her nightstand afterward, wanting a bit of background noise to fill the room.
She almost laughed at the instant sight of dinosaurs on the screen. Her bedroom door was still open an inch, so she called for the film's ultimate fan.
"Richard, Jurassic Park's on."
He didn't respond immediately, but she heard the floorboards creak.
"What?"
"Jurassic Park!" she shouted.
Richard ran to her room, his loud footsteps sure to annoy the neighbors Mia knew downstairs. He swung her door open and leaned against the frame.
He smiled in delight. "Say no more."