A/N: I feel like I should address this, Ashley is not Ashely B. Choi. It was just a random name that popped into my head. Just so there's no confusion :)
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I was at a loss. Complete and utter loss. I kept asking myself the same question, "What now?" and, "Is this the end?". I didn't like the idea of us not parting ways again. Of the last memory, I would have of her, being how she left me in the dust of her motorcycle that zoomed through the underground garage.
But what could I do? I have done everything I possibly could, haven't I? I tried to talk to her three times now. And each time she would push me away, not interested in hearing what I had to say in the slightest. Even went as far to accuse me of not being able to respect the only wish she had left and that was to leave her alone.
It was true; I could not honor that wish. Like all the times before, I was set on my goal and not even her clear displeasure set me astray. Which, now that I thought about it, made me sound even worse. I was doing it for her though, wasn't I? Well, partially at least because a big part of me just wanted to feel better knowing she knew the truth. Yes, I was that selfish.
Albeit Lisa not caring for my apologies, which I was sure she would find meaningless anyway, I couldn't bring myself to do as she asked. I understood where she was coming from, really; I did. If I were in her shoes, I'd hate me too. How could I not? I was the only person she trusted and still I... I knew what hurt her the most, yet I did it perfectly. Even I knew how unforgivable that was.
However, now that I was sitting on the cold cemented floor, hoping an approaching car would just run me over already, I felt defeated. I ran out of all my options and I didn't know what to do anymore. I felt guilty about even thinking about doing anything at all as her poison-laced words rang in my ears, "I don't want to talk to you. Not now and not ever!". And though I understood, I couldn't pretend like it didn't hurt.
Like it didn't feel like she drove a sharp Katana sword right through my heart, leaving it hanging at the Kissaki. I could practically taste the metal in my mouth that would drip down my cleavage as I'd look down at the blade sticking out of my chest. And though I was never pierced by a sword before, I knew that the stinging pain would've felt the same.
My body was shivering, both because of the chilly temperature in the underground space, and from the emotional state I was in. It was long, that I stopped crying. Not because I wasn't sad or because the pain was bearable now. I stopped because I no longer had any tears to shed.
I wanted to cry; wanted to escape the pain and wail into the distance, but I couldn't. Instead, I was just staring into space while feeling my heart break into pieces. I was in agony. It was ironic, really. How my heart could still get hurt like this by something I had already seen coming, anyway. And it hurt like hell, knowing that I needed to let go of her but couldn't because I was still waiting for the impossible to happen. Hoping, wishing, and praying that things would be okay again.
Before, I thought it was hard waiting around for something I knew might never happen. But I knew it would be harder to give up when I knew it was everything I wanted. However, now, I didn't know anymore. I was committing one selfish act after another, and finally, I felt like my fire has burned out. Like even that little spark, when you try to light your lighter but all you see are the tiny sparks disappearing in the air, has died out. If I were a lighter, I'd be one that's run out of fuel.
Yet, nothing has made me sadder than imagining myself not seeing her ever again. I've given up, yet my heart refused to. Well, more like its dozen of pieces. Those were still there, begging for me to get up and try again, knowing only she could piece my heart back together. But what if I no longer had the strength? What was there I could do?
I wanted nothing but the best for her, I really did. I always have. It's just that sometimes, like right now that my palms were planted on the cold ground beneath me as I was heaving heavy breaths, I wished that the best for her was me. And knowing I wasn't, that I never would be, was so incredibly painful.
So when I said I was at a loss, this is what I meant. I was at a dead-end, a blind ally with no escape. All I could do now was turn around and take a different route. One that didn't lead to you.
Out of nowhere, my phone buzzed, and it was then that I realized I must've been here for longer than I thought. Somewhere along the way, I lost complete track of time as I settled for staring into space, not giving a damn about the world around me.
Reluctantly, I pulled the phone out and looked at the screen, which lit up with a single notification. Before I got the chance to read it, however, my eyes were dragged to the four digits sitting at the top of the screen. It was four in the afternoon. Where did the time go? Was I really hopelessly sitting here for an entire hour, not moving a muscle?
I must've because my legs ached in protest when I attempted to stand up. They felt like they weren't really a part of my body, and I scrunched my face up in displeasure.
Unlocking my phone, I read the text and furrowed my brows. There was actually more than one, I just must've been so out of it I didn't even feel it vibrate. And if I did, my brain just decided to ignore it.
Michael :
I'm waiting for you downstairs, Mrs. Park
Michael :
Is everything alright?
I thought you wanted to leave as soon as possible?
Michael :
Your husband left for the airport, so I know you're not with him now.
Are you alright?
Michael :
Text me when you see this, I'm going to look for you.
Oh shit, quickly typing a reply, letting Michael know I was just fine, and that I was making my way up to the lobby, I willed my legs to move and stuffed the device back inside my purse. My pulse was racing as my level of anxiety increased.
Did he tell Chanyeol? What would Chanyeol think if he knew I disappeared for so long? This could get me in so much trouble if he knew. But then I realized I got no texts from my husband, which must've meant he wasn't informed of my sudden disappearance. If he was, my phone would've been blowing up.
That was probably the only thing going my way today, and I allowed myself to heave a sigh of relief as I entered the empty elevator and took a ride up to the lobby.
It wasn't long before I was stepping out, turning my head in search of the head of the security. I wasn't too worried about runny mascara streaks on my cheeks, or disheveled hair that would show I was most certainly not okay. I took care of my appearance while I was in the elevator, and I made sure I would look presentable once I set foot back into the office.
Micheal was dutifully standing by the receptionist's desk on high alert, clearly looking for me. I raised a tentative hand into the air, successfully gaining his attention as he muttered something to the woman behind the desk and made his way towards me in long strides.
"I'm so sorry, Michael," I blurted out as soon as he was standing in front of me, "I was just-"
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Mrs. Park. It's none of my business. Just let me know that you'll be late next time so I don't have to worry,"
"Yes, of course," I nodded my head in slight confusion as the man didn't look angry and certainly wasn't interested in hearing a made-up excuse. He actually seemed to respect my space, and that was, well, beyond strange, "I'm still sorry though," I apologized sincerely.
"It's alright," he dismissed, "Are you ready to go back to the penthouse, or do you need to stay here for a while longer?"
"That's okay, we can go back. I took care of everything I needed." I sighed sadly, trying not to think about the red taillight slowly disappearing from my view along with the beautiful raven.
"The car is already waiting. This way," Michael led me outside towards the black vehicle. Once we reached it, he opened the door for me and closed it gently once I was seated inside.
Circling the car, he entered and sat down next to me before the car moved. The ride was silent, and I was thankful neither the driver nor Michael attempted to start a conversation. It must've been visible on my face that I didn't want to talk and would rather stare out the window until we arrived at the apartment.
I let my thoughts flow freely once again as I watched the building and cars passing by my window. I thought about what was next for me now that I no longer had a goal to reach. Thought about her words, about the way she looked at me, and about the way her back looked when she left me all the times before. It hurt, yet I felt emotionless. No tears rushed to my eyes, nothing. I was like a black canvas, the colors of my emotions barely protruding through.
My mind drifted off to Jennie and Jisoo, and to what they would think. If by chance, despite not being as close anymore, Lisa has contacted them. If they knew about what happened today. And I thought about what they would say to me if they saw me now. "Don't give up," sure as hell didn't sound like a reliable option now.
I started to feel like a character in one of Jisoo's books. Like a tragic hero in a dramatic novel. However, I was a hero no one would cheer for. The book would be boring because all I wanted to do was give up. That, or I was at a complete loss, like now. A hero that no longer wanted to fight. And though the main character was called the hero, if there was a novel about me, I would be the loser. There was nothing heroic about my actions, and all I really wanted was to disappear into thin air because trying was too much, and I no longer had it in me to fight.
All books were aiming somewhere. The plot had a direction that it took, something it wanted to achieve. A satisfying ending, even if not a happy one. Yet, I was here. Was this the end of my book? If so, it must've been really dull, definitely not worth writing. Because since the start, there was no goal, no grand finale I was to achieve.
Since the beginning, there were just hopes and dreams that were so unrealistic, even the most naïve reader could not be swayed into believing them. I was a bad person, and no one cheered for those. Maybe if I was a book, I'd be a satire one. I was the only one who viewed it tragically while others would just laugh. Yeah, that would make sense.
Always deep in thought, never acting on my impulses, and always sort of hoping for the best. That was what I was best at. And now, I lost all motivation.
That's when it hit me.
Out of nowhere.
I wasn't even thinking about it, and yet it came to me. I could practically see the lightbulb going off above my head. I felt my eyes widen as they were about to bulge out of my head, and I stopped breathing for a second.
It was insane. A completely crazy idea that could end very badly. It could render things beyond repair completely. I mean, who in their right mind would go through with something like that?
I would. I was the crazy person. And I no longer cared. If this was the last thread I could take, I would take it. Things were already beyond repair now. This was my last chance. And even if it ending badly was the highest probability, once I've thought of it, I couldn't let it go without trying. I couldn't let Lisa go without trying this one last thing.
So with shaky hands, I snapped my purse open and hastily pulled my phone out. My fingers danced across the screen and I could've sworn at some point they turned into a blur from how quickly I was typing. I was excited, nervous, anxious. But most of all, I knew this was a terrible idea, and I dreaded what I was about to do.
Hey Jen
I know this is super random, but what is Lisa's address?
...
The driver I wasn't sure if I could trust, therefore even after getting a surprisingly quick reply from Jennie, I didn't say a word. I wasn't entirely sure if trusting Michael was the best choice, but from how's he treated me before, I was willing to risk it. I mean, if it were up to me, I would just slip out, but with having eyes on me twenty-four seven, it was a nearly impossible task.
So as soon as we got out of the car and started walking down the lobby, I picked up my pace so I could stand in front of the tall man, putting my hands on his chest to stop him from walking. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked down at me, and I was sure it must've looked comical to anyone else solely because of our height difference.
"Uhm, actually," I started unsurely, fiddling with the ring on my index finger, now that my hands have fallen to my sides again, "Could we actually drive me somewhere?"
"Oh... I mean, sure yeah," I watched his brown eyes widen and I could tell the request bewildered him, but he shook his head and reached into the pocket of his suit, "Let me call the chauffeur."
"Wait!" I stopped him and now the poor man looked even more confused than before, "Could you drive me?"
"Of course," he pulled his hand away from his pocket and I was relieved to see that despite his confusion, he wasn't objecting.
We took a quick ride in the elevator until we reached the garage, got into another black car, and in no time, we hit the road again, swerving past yellow taxis and avoiding the busy traffic. It was like a gift. Somehow Michael always knew which route to take to get where we needed to get the fastest.
"If I may ask Mrs. Park," he interrupted the comfortable silence, and I turned my head from the window to look at him, "Why did you ask me to drive you?"
His eyes never left the road, so I couldn't see what he was thinking, but from looking at the side of his face I could see he wasn't irritated. It made me feel a little more at ease knowing that just, maybe; I wasn't bothering him as much as I feared.
I couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't sound like the most pathetic excuse, therefor I voiced the truth instead, "I don't trust him," and shrugged.
The car came to a stop at a red light, and this time he let his eyes leave the road in front of us and focus on me. Not that he could meet my eyes, though; I was looking anywhere but at him as soon as I sensed he was going to let his gaze travel to me. I didn't even know why, but suddenly, I became scared again. Scared to see how he would look at me now.
"What do you mean?"
With a sigh and a somewhat mental preparation, I willed myself to turn my body towards him, yet still not meeting his eyes and looking down at my lap, instead, "It's just that, you're different from the men Chanyeol hires," I spoke quietly.
"How so?" he prodded, and from my peripheral vision I could see him tilting his head, clearly not understanding a second he spent with me since we were about to step into the elevator back at the apartment building.
"Well, you didn't tell him about Jennie..."
"It wasn't my place to," he shrugged and turned back to look out the windshield as the lights turned green.
"You also said nothing when I went to visit my friends," I pointed out, "And then just today, you didn't tell him after I went off,"
"Why should I? You're entitled to your own privacy. If you wanted to tell him, you would. It's only natural to have friends over, it's not like it's something serious or possibly endangering I'd have to inform him about. He's your husband, not your mom," he chuckled and for a second I swear I could've seen a hint of a smile on his full lips. It's like for a moment he didn't talk to me like I was just Chanyeol's wife, but a person.
"Sorry," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I shouldn't have said that,"
"No, no, that's okay. I liked it," I chortled and gave him a small smile, hoping he would notice from the corner of his eye. He seemed to as I watched his eyes crinkle slightly at the sides as he smiled again, "No need to treat me... I don't know, all professional. It's nice being able to talk to someone,"
"Noted Mrs. Park,"
"Could you maybe not call me Mrs. Park? Maybe just like Chaeyoung?"
"One step at a time," he laughed, "Your husband wouldn't be pleased with this as is,"
"What do you mean?" this time it was my turn to be confused.
"I don't think I should be telling you this, I mean he didn't say not to, but it felt like one of those unspoken rules, you know?" his fingers started drumming against the steering wheel suddenly, and I could tell he was becoming slightly uneasy. I didn't want to push him into telling me, but at the same time, he piqued my interest. So I settled on saying nothing and waited to see if he stopped entirely, or continued.
"When I got hired, he was very specific when it came to you. I found it strange because the way he talked about you, I don't know, it just didn't feel right. He said that I should report back to him whenever something would happen, that I should notify him of your whereabouts all the time, about who you were with, what you were doing, and so on. Honestly, it felt kind of sick. Like you were a dog or something. It didn't sit well with me, so I just... I don't do it. You are human and you deserve to have your own life and privacy like anybody else. So unless something dire happens, I don't tell him.
He almost fired me when you went to visit your friends a few weeks back because I didn't tell him. It's then that I realized it was never really about keeping you safe, but rather about controlling everything about your life. I'm sorry, I know I'm way out of line," he stopped short, his forehead creasing and brows almost meeting in a frown. He seemed angry with himself.
"No, please, continue. I promise I won't tell him anything," I assured, "Besides, you didn't say anything that wasn't the truth, anyway," I added quietly.
The second those words slipped past my lips, my hand shot up to cover my mouth and I whipped my head to look at the person behind the steering wheel in fright. Oh God, if Chanyeol found out about what I said, I would be doomed. No one could know about the anything but perfect, relationship the two of us had, and here I was blabbering away to one of his employees.
Clearly, he wasn't too fond of my husband either, but this was far too risky, even if he seemed like a decent guy. This could ruin everything. I guess that's what happens when someone finally seems to listen and understands. It just slips out. A rookie mistake, one that I thought could never happen to me.
He seemed to notice my increasing panic straight away though, "Don't worry, I won't tell him anything either, I promise." he assured me and though he was paying attention to the road, I could see how kind his eyes were, "Anyone in their right mind would notice that. I'm surprised you let him treat you like that. No offense, but you would be better off without him,"
"It's... complicated,"
"I understand," he nodded and dropped the subject before remembering where he left off and since I seemed to agree with what he was saying he didn't seem hesitant to continue, "One of the things I was also strictly forbidden from doing was connecting with you. I mean, I like to be more than just an employee to my clients. I prefer to establish an easy, friendly even, relationship with them. It makes everything less tense. But he was very specific about keeping everything strictly professional. I found it strange but thought maybe you were... I don't know,"
"A rich, stuck-up, housewife?" I asked with amusement in my voice and watched him squirm, and smile sheepishly.
"Well..."
"It's okay, I completely understand. I do have to admit though, it's weird to hear you talk,"
"Really?" he asked, clearly surprised by the statement.
"Yeah, I mean, before you've said three words at most to me and now look at you building whole sentences," I teased, earning another hearty laugh.
"I was scared, don't blame me,"
"Scared? Really? You?" I asked in disbelief. It was hard to imagine Michael scared of anything when he was almost six feet seven and his muscles were practically ripping the expansive-looking suit. Not to mention his strong jawline that I could just imagine making him look absolutely terrifying when he clenched it, when angry. If anything, I'd be scared of him.
"You looked intimidating," he groaned and I couldn't help but laugh again, not realizing how a conversation with him seemed to wash all my worries away, "I mean, not to offend you, but you looked so cold. Even saying three words to you was a challenge."
"Oh wow, is this how you talk to your boss?" I watched his eyes widen suddenly as he scrambled for words, but before he had the chance to blurt out an apology, I chuckled, setting his mind at ease, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Sorry, I scared you,"
"It's alright," he grinned and even winked at me when his eyes left the road for a second.
"I'm also sorry for almost getting you fired the other day," I mumbled, this time serious and genuinely apologetic for causing him to get into trouble.
"Thank you. For the apology I mean," he said sincerely, "But it's okay. If anything, I was more concerned about you. He looked enraged even when he talked to me, I can't imagine how mad he must've been at you. Did you get yelled at a lot?"
If only yelled at, I thought but kept my inside voice just that, on the inside. He didn't need to know what really happened that night, and though it was really easy to talk to him because of his friendly nature, this was something I couldn't disclose to anyone. So instead of saying what I really thought, I put on a brave smile, "It wasn't too bad, we worked it out."
"That's good, I'm glad."
We grew silent again and after the conversation, we shared it felt unnatural not talking to him. And while I tried to think of a topic of conversation to start, he opened his mouth again and beat me to it, completely changing the subject.
"So, where is it that we're going?"
"Just to see," I paused for a second, not really knowing what to address Lisa as. I didn't want to think about it too much though, "a friend. Yeah, an old friend,"
"From college?" he asked curiously, not prying, but seemingly genuinely interested.
"Yeah, we were really close back then," I smiled at the reminiscence.
"What happened?"
Gulping, I turned back to the window, not wanting him to see the flash of sadness in my eyes that was sure to be there, "We just... grew apart,"
"Oh," he hummed sadly, "Maybe you can get close again now, though!" he tried to cheer me up, not knowing he was unintentionally making it worse.
"Yeah," I sighed wistfully, "Maybe,"
...
"We're here, Mrs. Park," he announced as he parked the car on the side of the road.
I glared at him reproachingly, making him stutter, "I-I mean, Chaeyoung,"
"That's better," I grinned victoriously.
"It's hard though," he whined, and though it stunned me for a second, I was laughing the next one because I would've never guessed the tough-looking guy could ever whine.
"Can I just call you Mrs. Park for now? I need to get used to the new way of things,"
"Okay, I guess," I sighed dramatically, "Just don't take too long."
"Will do,"
"Thank you for driving me," I smiled and reached for the door handle.
"No problem. Would you like me to stay close by or...?"
Peeking my head back inside, I nodded my head, "Yes please, I won't be long,".
"Oh and," he called for my attention before I had the chance to close the door, and I leaned down to peek my head inside the car again, quirking my brow in question, "Don't worry, I won't tell Mr. Park anything."
"Thank you," I muttered gratefully, with a smile on my face before stepping away from the car and closing the door behind me.
I was grateful to have Michael on my side. When Chanyeol told me he would be leaving, I was happy that I would have time for myself, despite always being under the watch of someone else. But now that I've got to know Michael a little better, I knew I would be okay. Sure, he could still throw me under the bus, I shouldn't trust anyone, but with the things he's said, I thought the chance of that happening was pretty slim.
He seemed like a genuinely nice person, who could clearly see that the things that were going on were wrong. And I was beyond grateful for that. It was sort of like a breath of fresh air, having an ally in all this. Not that I could tell him about the things going on, of course, but maybe things would be easier now that I could at least move freely, without having to worry about anyone ratting me out. I knew that this would just stay between Micheal and me, seeing as he wasn't really allowed to talk to me either way.
Albeit knowing I shouldn't, I allowed myself to trust the man. After everything he's done and said, I didn't have a reason to doubt him. I just hoped I wouldn't grow to regret the decision.
For a moment I watched the car move as he drove off, probably looking for a space to park, seeing as he couldn't stay on the side of the road forever. And as soon as I could no longer see the red taillights, I heaved a sigh and turned to face Lisa's building.
Just like Jennie's and Jisoo's, Lisa's apartment building was located in Brooklyn. It made sense seeing as she moved out from their apartment what seemed to be not a long time ago. And just like theirs, Lisa appeared to live in an industrial apartment as well. Or perhaps a loft, since the building looked more like a renovated commercial building rather than what appeared to be a factory back in the day. One way or the other, there seemed to be a lot of buildings similar to those around the city borough, so it wasn't all that surprising Lisa would live in one as well.
It was a brick, nine-story building with high windows that were getting wider towards the top. They all had black frames around them and some were right next to the fire staircase on the side of the building. I was sure it was a nice place to live seeing as it was almost right next to the Manhattan bridge and I was sure, from the top floors, there was a breathtaking view as it overlooked Manhattan directly.
I knew from Jennie that Lisa lived in one of the top ones, and I remembered her telling me once that she wanted to live high up to see the skyline from her bedroom. That she would like to admire the world outside without a care in the world. She said she would like to spend her days just watching the sunset with a cat in her lap, curled up under a blanket with me by her side. That in winter she would like to watch the snow fall and coat the building in the distance with a mug of hot cocoa in her hands. She told me that all she really wanted was to sit there with me, letting me lean against her form, both of us covered in my favorite grey blanket she used to have thrown over her bed in college.
The rush of memories brought a tear to my eye, but I quickly wiped it away and shook my head, the memory fading out as I tried to focus on anything else but that. That's when I noticed all the top-floor apartments had their lights turned off and I wondered if she was even home. Maybe she was at her girlfriend's house, forgetting all about me in her own way. Or she went out to her spot, knowing her, she looked for and found shortly after moving here.
Would I just wait outside if she wasn't home, or should I call Michael and try another time? Though I was thinking about it, I knew there was no way I'd try this again, courage already slipping out of me. If she wasn't inside, I guess it just wasn't meant to be. I decided that after this, I would be done with this madness.
That's when a thought crossed me. There was no way I could get up to her without ringing the bell first. And there was no way she would let me in if she knew it was me who came to see her. This plan seemed to have more things wrong with it than I initially thought, but then again, I thought of it on a whim, looking for a last resort.
And as I thought about what my next plan of action would be, as if the heavens were finally smiling down at me, I noticed a man in his twenties walking out of the building. Without a second thought, I called after him to hold the door for me, and thankfully he wasn't too engrossed in the activities on his phone nor cautious about an intruder (or he simply just didn't care) because he held the door for me and let me slip inside, without as much as a glance.
The building was cold, and I shivered, not even my cardigan providing me with enough warmth. But then again, the shaking might as well be caused by the building-up anxiety. Because right now, I was this close to her. I was in her apartment building like a complete psycho, taking steps up to the top floor, reading the numbers off of each door I passed. And without even noticing how or when I was standing before her door.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I realized just how dry it was and I had the sudden urge to drink a gallon of water. I was incredibly nervous. So much so that I felt my heart thump in my throat. I felt like I couldn't breathe and my palms were instantly drenched in sweat. And despite the weak attempt to wipe them against my jeans, they continued sweating as I've just dipped them in the ocean. I was that hopeless.
I was scared, and I wasn't sure if it was of her, or of the possibility of her not being here. I didn't know which I wanted more, to see her open the door or wait and not get a response. I dreaded her reaction once she'd see me. And just like every time I did something impulsive, I did not know what to do. I had not thought this through at all, and though I knew this was a terrible idea before, it was just now that I started realizing just how terrible it was.
Not wanting to make myself any more anxious though, I took a deep breath in, and before I had the chance to talk myself out of this, I stepped forward. Working up the courage, I balled my hand in a fist and raised my hand, knocking at the dark, wooden door. Though I saw it coming, the sound reverberating through the entire building made me look around nervously, as if caught off guard. Everything up until now felt like I was in a daze like it was glossed over, like a dream. But now that I felt the surface of the door against my hand, it was like a reality check and I realized I was actually doing this. I was actually here, standing at her door, waiting for her to open up.
I wanted nothing more but to turn around and run away as far as I could. But I didn't. Not because my feet felt heavy like there were bricks tied to them, but because after coming such a long way, I wasn't willing to give up without at least trying. No matter how terrifying it was.
When I stepped out of the car, it was just past five in the afternoon, so it was still sunny outside which made me a little less worried for have I come later, when it was dark out, I was sure I'd panic and run away despite the mindset.
My heart was hammering in my chest and I started to feel a little dizzy. I was way too anxious and the longer the door remained closed, the more the anxiety spiked. More thoughts overcame me as I thoughts of all the horrible scenarios that could happen as I overthought.
Seconds passed like hours and everything around me stopped existing. I could only focus on the way my breathing sounded, so shallow and heavy, the way my fingers picked at the edges of the sleeves, or the way my leg kept bouncing. All I heard was the blood pumping through my veins into the organ in my chest, thumping so hard, I thought my ribs would break.
And though everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, I could tell more than a minute has passed and the door remained closed. I wasn't sure whether I should wait for a bit longer or walk away, but after waiting a few more seconds, my shoulders sagged in defeat and I sighed, in what I wasn't sure was defeat or relief. But something deep inside me told me it was the former.
With a heavy heart, I turned around and moved to descend the staircase. I would not call Michael; I felt far too pathetic for that. After all, it wasn't over five minutes that we parted. Besides, I need a walk. I needed to clear my head, breathe some air, and focus on something other than the sadness filling my chest. Finally, once and for all, it was over.
But just as I was about to step down what could've been the tenth step, I heard the sound of a heavy lock, and without having to look; I knew the door has opened. And if I had any doubts about whether or not she was home, they were all gone as I heard her voice, "Yes?"
The second I heard it, I whipped my head around as her gaze dropped, realizing there was no one standing at her doorstep, and looking for the culprit that knocked on her door.
And as soon as our eyes met, all she could say was, "It's you," in one breath.