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“Look, have you heard of the ‘Sundress Phenomenon?’ I think you should whip his ass by showing off a little bit of skin and a little bit of… moving on!”
“Clara, I get that you’re also mad at him, but let’s not go there.”
“Fine, let me whip his ass, then. I haven’t put my kickboxing training to use lately. I could use the warm-up.”
I laugh as I turn to see her semi-serious expression. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“As you can see, no.”
“Fine, we’re buying a revenge dress then.”
Chapter Thirteen
I’mnotnervous.I tell myself as I put my hands around the warm mug of hazelnut-flavored latte before me.
I haven’t cried for the last few nights, I’m wearing light make-up, and I even have the new flowy dress Clara, which I bought yesterday. If anyone saw me right now, they wouldn’t even know I’m about to go through one of the hardest conversations of my life.
I find comfort in my unfazed demeanor.
But still, I can hear my heart hammering against my eardrums. Even the jazz music in the background couldn’t cover the sound of my pounding chest.
I shake my hands out for what could be the tenth time, letting blood flow through the nerves of my fingers.
As much as I deny it, Larson still makes me anxious.
Every time the door opens, I try not to look up in panic and pretend I’m busy on my phone, even if I’ve been looking at the same wallpaper each time.
Until finally, the door opens, and a guy approaches the table.
I hate that his faint perfume still lingers in my memory—so much so that I know who he is from his scent alone.
Larson Day.
Larson slowly sits down on the chair adjacent to me, and seeing him again—in the flesh—makes it hard for me to breathe. Suddenly, my chest heaves and doesn’t go down with ease.
His face is still gentle and innocent, but I can see the dark circles under his eyes; his hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes dimmer—shimmering with thoughts that equally bother him. Deservingly so.
Still, his sadness offends me. So, I look away.
Larson speaks after a few moments of silence, “How are you? You look well.”
I didn’t think hearing that from him would be so gratifying. Now, I have to thank Clara. I deadpan. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” he replies quietly. “Thank you for taking the time to see me. I know… this must be hard for you. Especially after—after what happened.”
After what you did,I almost correct him, but I decide to just keep my mouth shut and let him say his piece.
With a heavy sigh, Larson continues, “Look, Estelle. Ilovedyou, you know that, right? I really did. And for a long while, I intended to spend the rest of my life with you but life… life happened.”
Even if I’m on the verge of screaming in his face for using life as an excuse for infidelity, I swallow it. I know it’s pointless now.
So, he tries his best to come out less scathed from this war. “I know I can’t make it better, and the only thing I can do is apologize. So, I’m sorry, Estelle. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”
His apologies wouldn’t get me the four years of my life back, not the broken dreams, the sleepless nights, and the sick mornings. His apology isn’t going to do much now.
It’s the fucking band-aid over a nine-inch stab wound.
But I’ll take it.
