AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At least, I was incredibly lucky to not have to wait longer—though the luck didn’t extend to my meager savings account, which has been cut in half. The next flight home might as well have been tomorrow, and I don’t think my resolve would last that long. I’d cave in and go back like I’ve badly wanted to ever since I left the apartment. Ever since I left Grigory.
My heart aches at the thought of him.
I take out my phone to check for messages. Still nothing. I stare at the empty screen. It’s probably for the best. At this point, a single text is all it would take to have me running back to him.
My hand flies up in a quick motion to catch a tear that’s about to spill. I can’t break down. Not in the middle of an airport. There’ll be no shutting it down once it’s started, so I have to hold myself together.
Pushing to my feet, I grab the handle on my suitcase and start walking on autopilot. Even my luggage tells me how off this situation is. It’s only half its usual weight since I only took the things within my reach. All my laundry, toiletries, and my laptop remain.
Someone comes running behind me, and I turn my head, my heart beating with the hope that it’s him. But it’s not. That sort of thing only happens in movies. Plus, I could hear the steps were too light even before I looked. The woman in a hurry bumps into my shoulder and throws me an apology on her way. But it doesn’t matter that she’s friendly and harmless. The slight shock rattles my already shaky system, and I start trembling, my hands coming up to rub the nervous skin on my arms. I squeeze my eyes shut to force out the chaos around me, but the wall of noise is still there.
What would Grigory say?He was so good at calming me when we left Berlin together half a year ago and I was rattled from the new situation, fraught from the lack of sleep.
A broken whimper escapes me, and I heave a staggered breath through the constriction in my throat. I can’t bear to think about him.
What would Markus do?I try instead. But I can’t remember. Grigory keeps popping up, blocking the memories of the man I’ve loved and submitted to for one and a half years. God, it’s all become so fucked-up. Ending it really is the right thing to do. I won’t allow this impossible thing with Grigory to ruin my relationship with Markus.
Forcing myself out of the pounding anxiety, I start walking again, shutting off every thought and emotion.
When finally seated on the plane, my belt buckled and the plane ready for takeoff, I check my phone one last time before putting it on airplane mode. Still nothing. Not a single word from Grigory since I left him standing in the bedroom door, looking lost and hurt.
A spear of pain pierces my chest, and I clench my muscles to hold back the shaky sobs threatening to break free. The person next to me casts me a sideways glance, but I don’t care. I just need to get through this. So I stare into the back of the seat in front of me, clenching my hands in my lap.
I stay like this until I’m back on solid ground. Then I keep up the same rigid tension during the long cab ride, which makes another dent into my savings account. But I don’t care about money right now. I just need to make it home without breaking, and not having to endure a long bus ride, surrounded by people, will help.
When the cab finally turns down the winding road between the yellow two-story brick buildings, my throat is painfully tight, and I constantly have to wipe away stray tears.
Igrab my bag when the driver retrieves it from the trunk and all but run to my apartment. With trembling hands, I manage to unlock the door, slam it shut, and turn the lock. Then I slide down the door as the weight of it all finally pulls me under.
***
Three days disappear in a thick fog of crying, staring into thin air, and pacing my small apartment.
One moment, I feel so numb I can barely move. The next, the riptide of emotion bursting through me feels like it’s tearing me apart. Everything seems to hurt. Either it’s the emptiness gnawing a gaping hole inside my chest, or it’s my stinging eyes and the rawness in my throat—my muscles that are locked in a constant state of achy tension.
I try to get out of bed, get something to eat, and even read a book, but it doesn’t take long before a new wave of tears has me curling up on the floor. I keep hoping they will bring some sort of catharsis, but they never do. It’s always the same hollow numbness that meets me on the other side.
I consider calling Markus. He’d surely know how to knock me out of this misery. But the gaping hole between us remains. We’ve only texted since he left a couple of weeks ago, and I feel the distance in every word we exchange, so it seems wrong to seek comfort with him—wrong to ask my boyfriend to comfort me for leaving the man who’s come between us.
But even more so, I can’t stand the idea of taking out my phone and turning off airplane mode to find nothing from Grigory. Deep down, I’m still hoping he’ll come running, call to get me back or get on a plane to come see me. But as I mentally go over our last half hour together, I know this is it. The hurt in his eyes when I left was too deep.
So I steel myself when I finally go to get my phone. Even so, it’s like a fist to the gut to find nothing but radio silence from Grigory.
Markus, on the other hand, has called and texted countless times, and guilt rises within me like a tidal wave, shoving back the self-pity for a while. I should have texted him the moment I left the apartment, but I was too caught up in my grief. Once again, I hurt him because of my fixation with Grigory.
I open the texts from Markus to find a plethora of worried messages.
Are you okay?
Grigory said you left but won’t say more.
Call me immediately.
Clara, I’m starting to get really fucking worried.
Tapping my fingers quickly, I type out a short text and hit send.I’m okay. Back in Denmark.Then I crawl back under the covers and shut myself off from the world.
***
