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“Not even fucking close,” he grits.
“Find the words then, and make them count. This is the last time we’re speaking — consider it closure for the both of us. I need to move on from you and that means never seeing you again.”
The words hurt as I say them. I don’t know if I’m speaking for him or myself, but either way I know I have to find the strength to move on.
His eyes bore into mine, dark and enticing. “I love you.”
“Stop,” I say, closing my eyes and turning my face away.
“I love you,” he repeats, louder.
“Tristan!”
“I fuckinglove you. This isn’t an ending, this isn’t closure. This is just the beginning and I’ll make you see that.”
My pulse flutters every time he utters those words, as if he can control my life and the very breath in my body.
“I’ve been in agony the past week, Nera. I won’t survive living without you. I’mbeggingyou to forgive me. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for how I hurt you, I promise.”
My face whips around, fresh anger surging in my veins.
“You didn’t learn a single thing about me if you think I’d ever forgive you for hurting me this way. You want to talk about begging?I’mthe one who begged you not to break my heart. You had all the warnings you needed, but you chose not to heed them. Now you have to live with the consequences of your actions. My parents I have to put up with, but you I can just cut out of my life.”
The words alone are painful to say. They rip at my chest, tearing my vital organs until it feels like I’ve been sliced to ribbons on the inside. The thought of actually going through with my threat kills me, but I know it’s what I have to do.
Tristan closes the distance between us and I expect him to grab me again. I’m ready to shake him off if he does. Instead, he stands in front of me and stares for long seconds. Up close, I can see how awful he looks. Is skin is grey and ashen, like he hasn’t gotten any sleep in days. His eyes are raw with pain and deep grooves have etched themselves beneath his lower lids. Unhappy lines mark his face on either died of his mouth.
Slowly, he bends his legs, lowering himself to the ground until he’s on his knees at my feet. His eyes never leave mine as he settles into an imploring position. His dress pants are ten centimeters deep in snow and I know his knees are wet and frozen.
A thunderstorm of chaos rages in his gaze as he looks up at me. He looks so tormented that he doesn’t seem to notice the physical pain he must undoubtedly feel.
“Please.”
The word echoes like a gunshot.
It’s a simple plea.
I don’t let it thaw my heart even a little.
Even still, I don’t have the strength to look him in the eye when I answer. My voice trembles, but I affect confidence.
“Ask as many times as you want, beg, plead, get on your knees, I don’t care. The answer will always be the same,” I say. “No.”
I walk around him and to my car, leaving him there on his knees. Behind me, I hear him stand and march after me, his steps crunching loudly in the snow.
“Just leave, Tristan,” I call out, annoyed.
“I am.”
“Good.”
“No, I mean, I’m leaving Switzerland.”
My heart stops like it runs abruptly out of battery.
He comes around to stand in front of me, our eyes clashing when he comes back into my field of vision. That’s exactly what I want, what I thought he’d already done, what Ijusttold him to do, so why is everything inside me screaminghow dare he?
His face softens, relief washing over it when he takes in my reaction. I harden my features to stone so that he can’t see what I really feel behind the impenetrable mask.
