“Hi Jolyn,” Breht greeted the young voice. “Is your Dad there?”
The young girl got a good telling-off for answering her father's phone. Encouraging her to go and play with stern words, Gorim put the phone to his ear and sounded suspiciously similar to her as he greeted, “Hello?”
“Gorim, Hey, long time no speak!” Breht greeted enthusiastically.
“Breht! Is it that time of year already?”
Instantly, his swirling thoughts dissipated, and he launched into the usual tirade of pleasantries, asking how his daughter was doing at school and what his life-mate was getting up to. Catching up with all their good family news always distracted him from his own turbulent life. The simplicity of their life hit him with a stroke of envy, but Gorim always had a good word to say. Their casual conversation made the weight on his shoulders feel lighter until the dreaded question came from his friend.
“How is Rosani?”
“Ugh, don’t ask,” was all he could muster. Gorim knew the rise and fall of his relationship; he’d been told many a time.
“Look, mate, do me a solid and don’t go back. She only makes you miserable.”
It was a truth that he already knew, but to have it told to him made him feel defensive. “This isn’t what I rang you to talk about,” he said, trying to move the conversation on before he could dwell on his ex-fiance and the terror she’d brought into his life. The last thing he wanted was a replication of Dura’s interferences, only from Gorim.
“Something on your mind?” Gorim asked, “Not in trouble, are you?”
Why did everyone assume that he was in trouble? Or going to cause trouble?
“No, nothing like that!” Breht grumbled. “I’m doing some work in the area and, if you’re free, thought you might be able to catch up. In-person. Face to face.”
“And see your ugly mug?” Gorim laughed, “I’d love to. Actually, do you remember Alluin? Skinny guy with long hair. He’s having a bit of a get-together, a reunion of sorts, tomorrow night. Short notice, I know. It would be great if you came along.”
Alluin wasn’t someone that Breht could forget in a hurry. He bore no ill will towards the hyperactive human; the mere mention of him pulled at the strings of his nostalgia. Breht wasn’t sure such a large gathering was what he really wanted right now. He’d been thinking more along the lines of meeting up in a sports bar. Whittling away the evening, reminiscing over some old-time gossip while catching up on the good times he had missed since he’d been away. He leaned against the metal bar protecting pedestrians from the drop off of the sea defences onto the beach below. Gazing out to sea as a small speedboat whizzed by. Maybe.
The warmth of the day hit the back of his neck, the short-cropped, shaved sides of his head felt the rays against him, and he came up with the excuse, “I don’t know, I’m here on business, not to pleasure.”
At one point in his life, he had been all about the party scene. It wasn’t a good night if he didn’t end up face down on the floor, flirting with unconsciousness in a fit of reckless twenty-something foolishness. Usually with Rosani in tow, she loved the high life, showing off the latest catwalk fashion on her delectable curves. Initially, he had loved showing her off; how many chances did orcs like him get to have a beautiful woman on their hips? He’d been proud of what they were. What they had done together, then he’d matured and found the thought of staying up until the small hours and getting up for work in the morning too taxing. Now? His hand bunched into a fist aroundthe metal bar. To steady the rush of anger she caused, he took a deep, purposeful breath.
“What’re you working on?” Gorim thankfully interrupted his reverie.
“It’s a bit of an odd one, Ma brought a building complex. And, rather than kick out the businesses. I said I’d turn one of them around and make them viable. I guess it sat ill with me that she just wanted to boot them out in favour of bigger brands,” Breht paused, wistfully dreaming about what other businesses might be in trouble once the rest skyrocketed.
“You always were a soft touch,” Gorim teased.
“Only with the right people,” Breht retorted, accepting the jest for what it was. It’s true, he did tend to spoil his partners. “You’ll never guess who I am working with?” He prompted.
“Go on?” Gorim said slowly.
“Brierley!” Breht enthused.
He could hear his friend laughing down the phone at him. “Briar? Hey, didn’t you use to have a crush on her?”
“Yeah. I do,” he hastened to correct himself, “Did.”
He’d been caught out! Gorim’s laughter increased in volume, and he had to move the receiver away from his ear until the other orcs’ raucous noise subsided. “What did she say when she saw you?”
“I think she was mostly pissed off, to be honest. I represent the company that brought her business rental. So, I can understand the anger. I’m expecting her to call sometime this afternoon so we can discuss the ideas I’ve had.”
“Only that reason?”
“I’m pretty sure Brierley is only interested in her business,” He replied tonelessly. Attempting to ward off Gorim and his match-making skills. It had been good to see Brierley again and, yes, he was excited to be working with her, but his focus was entirely on turning her profits around. Besides, he figured she wouldn’t be interested. She hadn’t been while at school, why would that change now?
"You never did have any self-confidence, mate, not after Rosani tore you apart."
Breht's throat tightened. Gorim was right, as always. But it wasn't just Rosani—it was the pattern. He'd spent years trying to be what she wanted, reshaping himself, proving his worth, and it was never enough. Just like with Dura. Just like it had always been. Every relationship, every achievement, every attempt to matter—they all followed the same trajectory. He'd reach, she'd move the goalpost, and he'd fall short. Rosani had simply been the most recent version of a wound that ran far deeper than any single woman.
