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“One thing Bill told me was that I should never try to contact anyone from my old life,” I mumble.“Obviously, I followed that rule.You had done so much for me.I didn’t want to put you or Grey in danger.Not again.”
San shakes his head vehemently.“I would’ve protected you.”He runs a hand through his hair, a grim smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.“After killing fucking Enya, of course.”
“You need to forgive her,” I whisper.“For you, not for her.”
He shakes his head.“You haven’t seen Grey’s pain.Then there’s you.I saw and read what she did to you.So no, I don’t have to forgive anything.What happened to Enya?”
“She couldn’t live with herself.”I sigh, trying to remind myself that I’m only human and none of what happened was my fault.
“The last year of her life, while she was writing in her diary, she tried to make amends.”I look at my hands before moving my focus back to him.“I felt bad for the teenager who was abused by those horrible men with our father’s consent.Obviously, she didn’t have a choice.That’s the woman I wanted to help, even when I hated her.But as much as I kept telling her what to do, she only wanted vengeance.For those men to end up in jail, paying for what they did.But if she talked, she would share their fate.After all, she was a criminal.”
“You carry some guilt?”
I nod.“The night I forgave her, she left a note and—” My voice cracks, the sentence too painful to complete.“She could never tell any of her truths out loud.Only I knew them.The book makes it sound like we finally became sisters, best friends.We didn’t though.I wrote it like that as wishful thinking, something I needed at that moment.Ultimately, she couldn’t deal with the guilt.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, but the tone lacks sincerity.It’s an automatic response, a word he hopes might comfort me.
“It’s generally considered unethical for therapists to treat family members.But I was trying to help her heal in my own way,” I confess, a lump forming in my throat.“I just wasn’t good enough to save her.”
I press my lips together.This is something I’ve been holding onto for a long time.“That’s what weighs more, that even in the end, I only cared for Enya because I had made it my mission to help her through all the traumas.I didn’t see her as my sister,” I confess.“I sound so heartless.”
“Ae, she abused you emotionally since you were a child.I don’t judge you at all for not wanting to acknowledge her as your sister,” he says with a gentle voice.
“I’ve found it in myself to forgive her for what she did to me.But I can’t absolve her for dragging Grey along,” I admit, the bitter truth echoing in the air.
“So, you understand why I can’t let it go, don’t you?”His eyes darken, a storm brewing within them that mirrors his internal turmoil.
I nod, torn between the logic of forgiveness and the visceral understanding of his struggle.
“What’s going on with Grey?”I insist.“I doubt that he hates you.And I know there’s more beneath the surface.”
“All I know is bits and pieces.He’s an addict, been clean for four years now.”He shrugs, eyes distant.“The guy blames himself for what happened to you.It’s complicated.”
“So, from what I gather, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him since they kidnapped us, but you two aren’t together?”I confirm, because complicated is a very light word to what might be happening between the two of them.
“We see each other often,” he admits.“Our relationship is toxic.I seek him out when I’m having trouble breathing because I miss you both—our life.We spend hours having angry sex, and then I leave when he pushes me away.It’s a vicious cycle...”
It’s as if they’re punishing each other for ...“But none of this was your fault or his.”
“We let you down,” he says.
“But that’s wrong.If anything, you and Grey saved me from my mother’s grasp and perhaps what my dad could’ve done to me if I hadn’t been out of his reach.”
“Don’t make it easy on us.”
Ignoring his protest, I lean closer to him, drawn by a magnetic pull I can’t resist.As we lean in, our faces inches apart, there’s a shared understanding, a silent apology.His gaze lowers to my lips, and his breath hitches, anticipation electrifying the space between us.
Our lips meet in a gentle peck that soon deepens into something more profound, more meaningful.It’s a taste of forgiveness, a hint of shared history, a promise of reconnection.It’s an exploration of emotions that we’ve held back for too long.His hands cradle my face, tender as if he’s afraid I’d shatter, while my fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close.
The kiss ends with a sigh, a mingling of breaths that leaves us both slightly disoriented, our hearts pounding in synchrony.
The air around us feels charged, vibrating with an intensity that’s palpable.His eyes, mirroring my emotions, search mine.I see a glimpse of his heartache, the guilt he’s carried, and beneath it, a glimmer of hope.
“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice raspy with emotion.
I let him take my hand, leading me back toward the house and to his bedroom.As we cross the threshold, there’s a sense of crossing into a neutral zone, the past, somewhere where we can take a break from the present.
The door shuts behind us with a click, the sound resonating in the quiet room like a seal on our mutual decision to forget for a moment that we’re no longer part of each other.He was ripped away from my heart and soul so long ago.
