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“Clearly.”
I’ve never heard myself sound so bitter, and neither has she. Sienna’s self-righteous expression falters, and we both stare at each other, lost.
No one’s ever known me as deeply as she once did. And I thought I knew her, too. I thought I knew her well enough to believe she’d never vanish without a word on a whim.
Maybe she had a reason. She must have had a reason.
“Why?”
It’s a loaded question. Why did she need space? Why did she leave without so much as a goodbye? Why did she never come back? Why didn’t she love me enough to stay?
Her bottom lip wobbles. It’s difficult to make out her expression in the dim candlelight, but I can see that she’s hurting.
That I’m hurting her.
“Why?” I ask again. I want to step closer to her, but I remain where I stand. Her eyes keep darting to the door behind me, and her breath comes rapidly. It looks like she’s prepared to sprint away if I press her too hard.
“Why are you following me?” she counters.
There’s anger in her voice, but an undercurrent of something else. Regret, maybe. Apprehension.
That fear again.
It extinguishes my anger like water over a fire.
Whatever the reason, she didn’t want to be found. She’s not happy to see me, she’s not throwing herself into my arms and nuzzling her cheek against my neck. Something I did caused her to run, and if I keep pushing it, she’ll run away again.
Why did she run? Maybe because she could. I don’t need a better answer than that, and she isn’t mine to keep chained down. What else is there to puzzle over? She didn’t want to stay with me.
“I don’t have time for this,” she says, desperation once again twisting the impatience in her words. “You need to go.”
And what else is there to say, really?
I nod.
I gently pluck a string on the lyra. Of course it’s perfectly tuned.
“I missed you.”
I say it like a confession, like it’s some sort of secret. I don’t expect her to return the sentiment, and she doesn’t. She sucks in a ragged breath, and fuck. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want her to cry.
No answers are worth that.
“I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me where you were going. But I’m glad you’re safe.” I clear my throat and force a smile. I have practice at this sort of thing, after all. It’s all just another performance.Here is Ausdrice Rusodosh, playing the part of the gracious ex-lover who wishes nothing but the best for the woman who broke his heart.“It’s a nice shop. You’ve done well.”
I spare her one last glance before I go, but she’s already turned away. I see nothing but the back of her hair. She’s holding her hands across her stomach tightly, as if she’s physically trying to hold herself together.
And the crowd goes wild. Standing ovation.
I walk slowly to the door, giving her every opportunity to call me back to her, but she doesn’t. I stumble outside, door clanging behind me, and barely make it to the front of the parchment shop before I have to lean against something.
It feels like she just punched me in the stomach. I’m gutted.
After all this time, she’s been right here, avoiding me on purpose. Why? Because she could.
“Indie! Wait for me!”
Gleeful shouts distract me from my navel-gazing. Three children stampede down the street ahead of an indulgently smiling woman. She walks hand-in-hand with one toddler until the boy trips and begins to wail.
