I stand in front of the red mahogany, Georgian-era front door, the one I have knocked on countless times at all hours of the day. I stare at it trying to lock away all the memories of the past to gather the strength to ring the bell and go inside.
I stare. I stare and I stare.
He is probably still in London.
I hope he isn't.
I keep having these conflicting thoughts for a while before I finally decide to shake them away, clear my head and ring the doorbell with the slightest touch of my index finger.
Moments later, I am greeted by a warm hug from Sam, inviting me into the house. I look around the house to notice how it's still the same.
I walk down the two steps of stairs, and walk straight, entering the living room from its right entrance.
One of the sofas is facing the table, which has a cup of tea and a copy of Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, which I assume is a book that Sam is currently reading. Just beside the sofas and the table is the fireplace that has family pictures right above its mantelpiece. I smile as I spot a picture from afar, a picture of Liam and me from when we were kids as we are covered in paint, carefree.
"I am so happy that you came here. Dad has been asking about you since yesterday." Sam says making me look at her, away from all the pictures, away from all the memories.
"Yeah, mum told me. Is he in his room?" I say pointing my thumb towards the staircase.
"Yeah, go on," she says "I assume you remember the way," settling down on the sofa.
"Yeah, thanks", I say smiling at her as I move to the other entrance that leads to the staircase for Pops' room.
"Find me later, we'll catch up," she says from the sofa.
I mumble an okay as I disappear into the other hallway.
I am greeted with a massive hug from Pops room when he opens his door. He looks a little older now. I cannot even comprehend what that day did to him. I don't know how he ever forgave me after what that night took away from him. How he could even look at me without remembering that night let alone still be that lovable elderly figure in my life.
I guess I still feel guilty; embarrassed.
He was the only person, other than Mum, I ever called from Cambridge.
Does Liam know that?
"How are you, darling?" his question brings me back to reality.
"I am fine. I missed you." I say as we break away from the hug.
"I hope you are better from the last time we talked or would you want me to reprimand you again?"
"I still don't know how you are so calm and how can you even talk to me?" I say in a soft, shaky voice.
"None of it was your fault Keira. Always remember that and time does heal things, my dear. I was there the day you were born, with your grandpa and you know I love you as much as I love Liam and I will not be insulted with you insinuating otherwise." He says faking anger towards the end, making me laugh.
"Now, I would love to chat with you further but I need to head to London for some work. Also, before I forget, there is a gala on Sunday. I am glad you are in time to be here for it. Now, what would you want from a welcome home present?"
"What? No, I don't need one." I say trying to convince him otherwise.
"Nonsense! Now, erm, do you have dress for the gala?" He says as an idea occurs to him.
"Yeah, I probably do"
"But we can't have you wearing an old dress now, can we?" he says making me face-palm myself and continues, "I am gifting you one---it's a welcome home present." He says holding his hand up to stop me from arguing.
"Can you go fetch Liam for me? I think he is upstairs."
And in that moment, my heart sinks, my smile fades and colour drains from my face.
"Don't tell me you haven't met him yet?" Pops says guessing because of my pale face now.
"I didn't--, he was in London---"
"Excuses," he says interrupting me.
"Go meet the poor lad!"
"I have to---"
"Don't you try to fool your Pops with a lie," he says sternly and then he sighs, his expressions softening as he puts an assuring hand on my shoulder and continues, "It's been three years, Kiera. Delaying it will cause you more pain than facing it, believe me. There's no better time than right now. Go on, talk to him."
I take deep breath, "Okay," I say and turn to exit his room.
I climb the stairs slowly to the floor upstairs. With my heart beating faster with every step, I remember how excited he was to first show me that he had an entire floor to himself with his common space to play games all day, his study, his own gym and his room.
He was such a boy.
I reach the end of stairs to find the empty common space with some papers lying messily on the sofa in front of the large TV. I look around when I hear some noise from one of the doors.
The gym.
I slowly walk towards the gym, taking short rapid breaths now without realizing. I spot him immediately as I enter, wearing a black stringer vest and boxing shorts, with his back to me, punching a heavy bag.
He might have heard my footsteps because he says, "I am not hungry, Mum. I promise I will eat something later," as he continues to aggressively punch the bag without a break.
I stare at his back for moments trying to find my voice.
"Liam." I let out in what feels like a loud whisper, suddenly realizing that it's the first time I am saying his name out loud in these past three years.
I internally laugh at the irony - I haven't said his name in the past three years yet he has always been on my mind these years.
He abruptly stops when he hears me; the heavy bag almost hitting him in the face.
I am suddenly very aware of how silent it is; silent and weirdly calm.
I see him take a sharp breath. He turns to face me with the same look that he had yesterday, just more tired, more broken.
I keep staring at him, unblinking, almost crushing the phone in my hand as he is looking directly at me.
He keeps a light stubble beard now.
It suits him.
I move my brows together, trying to look closely as I see a small scar near his left eye.
He didn't have it before.
I take a step forward unconsciously taking all his appearance in, making out these subtle changes and trying to comprehend what to say.
I tried to finish some work after I came back from London today morning, but those hazel orbs with tears brimming in them is all that I had in my mind.
I need to hit something.
I change into my gym clothes and start punching the heavy bag playing our five minutes in the parking lot yesterday in my head over and over again.
I keep punching the bag harder, till that physical pain takes over the pain in my heart and in my mind.
I hear footsteps and assuming it's Mum asking me to eat something again, I brush her off saying that I will eat later.
I don't hear her steps retracting as I continue to punch the bag and then a moment later, I hear an all too familiar voice call my name.
My heart skips a beat and the hair on my nape stand-up from the Goosebumps I am having right now.
She is here.
It's been three years since I have heard that voice. Nothing drives me more insane than when she says my name. God! How I have missed it.
I take a large breath in to calm myself down. I try to shake away my bewilderment as I turn around to face her and the memory of those hazel orbs is instantly refreshed as I looking at her, unblinking.
None of us move for seconds or minutes or hours as we continue to look at each other not knowing what to do.
It seems to be our thing.
I notice her change in expression as she sees something unrecognizable on my face.
The scar near my left eye.
She is walking towards me now and I remember all the sleepless nights I have had running all the possible scenarios through my head for when I will see her again.
"You.."
My attempt at words is cut short by her sudden change in expressions. I follow her worried look to see her looking downwards at my right-hand with the blood dripping through the boxing hand wrap.
And suddenly the entire air in the room changes.
"Are you out of you mind? Punching a stupid bag when your hand is bleeding!" she said rushing towards me, the smell of raspberry and vanilla instantly filling the space.
And I keep looking at her as I am breathing heavily.
She takes my hand gently, making me sit on the flat bench press nearby with my body behaving like a puppet doing whatever she is asking me to do.
And I keep looking at her as my hand is burning from her touch.
She is even more beautiful now. Her chestnut brown hair are falling freely on her shoulders; some of the strands covering her eyes as she turns my arm and opens the hand wrap slowly.
"Oh! For crying out loud, what's wrong with you?" She says looking at the wound.
And I keep looking at her as my heart is pounding in my chest.
She keeps my hand down lightly as she gets up to fetch the first-aid box from the cabinet at the other end of the room, where I have always kept it. She comes back with the box and sits beside me, keeping my hand on her lap and starts cleaning the wound.
And I keep looking at her as I don't move in the slightest to ruin this moment.
"Long hair suits you." I murmur as soon as I find my voice, so lowly as if almost speaking to myself.
And suddenly the entire air in the room changes again.
She lifts her head slightly, her expressions changing from anger to nervousness, as my words register in her mind, though still not looking at me. She stops her hand mid-air unsure as to how to proceed.
His words hit me like cold water bringing me to reality.
My mind freezes; completely blank now to even comprehend this situation or his words let alone face it.
I want to run away again before he says something else, before my heart breaks into a million more pieces, before I loose whatever pretense of calm I have right now but I look at his hand, still covered in blood and all thoughts of doubt clear away.
I can't cause him anymore pain.
I never wanted to cause him any pain.
I move a little farther away and continue cleaning the wound. I release my breath in an audible, soft sigh as I apply the final bit of the micro-porous tape, not realising I was holding it till now.
"Erm, thanks," he says looking at me deeply.
"It's alright," I say looking everywhere but him.
I stand up and move away from him to gain control over my body which seems to be melting away under his intense stare.
I keep facing the floor as I say, "Pops was asking for you. He wants to talk about the gala and he wants to gift me a welcome home present and I tried—"
He stands up making my heart beat faster now, and moves closer, suddenly making me realize our height difference as I am directly staring at his lips now.
I look away so swiftly, almost spraining my neck, trying to recollect what I just talking about.
"Yeah, he won't take no for an answer. He has been so excited that you're back in time for the gala. He wanted everyone to be here for the new project announcement."
He answers my incomplete question making me look at him.
His hair are all dishevelled.
"I will be downstairs," I say making my way back to Pops' room before I do something stupid.
"Kie--" He calls out and stops suddenly.
I stop momentarily when I hear him but I don't turn around as he stops mid-sentence. I walk out of the gym trying to control my breathing and stopping my mind from running all the possible things he was almost about to say.
**********
Author's Note:
Hello Lovely Readers,
Liam and Kiera finally talk for the first time in three years. I hope you liked this meeting. This chapter had some other elements too but I promise the next chapter is only going to be the two of them. I am so excited to share this with you all.
I hope you liked it.
Do vote if you did.
Happy Reading ❤️❤️