Page 109 of The Encore’s Crown

It was just more confirmation that I was always walking a fine line of turning into my father. If I couldn't even remember what I'd said, would I do something I couldn't remember too?

I shook my head.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You meant it enough to say it.” She wiped angrily at her face, but the tears kept coming.

“Just know, if you walk out that door, this is over.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I'm not doing anything. You're the one leaving.”

“I need space.”

“You always need space when I ask whether I belong in your life.”

“You do belong.”

“Then stay.”

My hand closed around the door handle. She looked at it. Then at me.

“If you leave now, I'll know you don't love me.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Neither is this.”

I stood there with my hand on the door. Every part of me wanted to open it. Not because I wanted to leave her but because leaving was what I knew how to do. Leave before the questions became too heavy or before anyone saw the parts of me I couldn’t explain. Run away before love turned into something I could fail at. Behind me, Radhika began to cry harder.

I let go of the handle and the breath left me. Then I turned around. She covered her face as I crossed the room and took her into my arms. At first, she resisted. Her palms struck my chest once, then again, weak with grief rather than anger. I held on until her body settled against mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

She sobbed into my shirt.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

I lifted her and carried her back to bed. Turned off the lights. Pulled the blankets over us and held her while she cried. I apologized until the words lost all shape. She eventually fell asleep with one hand twisted in my shirt, like even unconscious she thought I might still leave.

I stayed, but something in me was already gone. After that night, I began pulling away in pieces. I let her calls ring while I stared at the screen. I told myself I was busy, even when I was sitting alone in a hotel room doing nothing. Her messages stacked up.

Are you awake?

Did you land?

Can we please talk?

Kiri, answer me.

Sometimes I typed a response and deleted it. Sometimes I sent something short enough to keep her from calling again.

Long day. Sorry.

In rehearsal.

Talk soon.