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What is the Texas legislature smoking and in what quantities? Seriously. Someone tell me. Because that’s the only explanation for this bill loosening the regulations for when basilisks need to be hooded. Do you want more basilisk-related deaths? Because that’s how you get more basilisk-related deaths.
I again managed a halfhearted laugh. Matteo had never been a fan of people owning those creatures. Like, vocally anti-keeping-them-as-pets. Then one had killed him for forty-three seconds, and ever since, he’d been loudly and hilariously passionate about how fucking stupid it was to sign up to be around them. And I…
I caught myself missing those rants. When he’d come home from work, and after he’d showered, I’d sit on our bed while he got dressed and went on and on about “fucking jackwagons who need a murder lizard to prove how manly they are” and “What even is the point? On agoodday, they’re about as friendly as a hellhound getting its anal glands expressed!”
God, I really did miss his comical tirades. And how he’d blush and roll his eyes when I reminded him that he was a big old softy who’d actually been sad when that clutch of basilisk hatchlings had gone home with their foster family. I missed how we both knew that no matter how much he thought basilisks were foul-tempered and dangerous as pets, he’d treat them as kindly and fully as he would any animal who came into his clinic. That was one of the things I’d loved about him from the start—how he was such a sucker for animals.
I missed all of that. Even though in my mind, it had only been last week that he’d been going off on one of those tirades, the knowledge that I wouldn’t hear another one tugged at my heart. And after I went back to Gach Rud, I’d remember the last year, and I’d feel the long stretch of time that had passed since I’d listened to Matteo grumble about “I’msurehe’s notencouraginghis basilisk to look at his mother-in-law.”
I wiped at my eye. Because it itched,notbecause it was welling up, because I wasnotgetting emotional as I tried to let go of Matteo. Yeah, I missed the good times in our life together, but those were over.
I kept scrolling back in time, and his posts got sparser and sparser.
Then, almost exactly a year ago, he’d posted simply:Biggest mistake of my life. I’m so sorry, Owen.
The comments… whew. No one cut himanyslack.
I can’t believe I thought you guys were couples goals.
You’re unbelievable.
You know, for someone with a doctorate, you can be one hell of a dumbass. What were you thinking?
Matteo didn’t respond to any of them. In fact he was radio silent for almost a month after that, and when he did finally resurface, it was a simple “I’ll call you” in response to his sister posting that she was worried about him.
Six weeks later, he was tagged in some photos from his cousin’s wedding.
Those photos… My God, even now, when I was angry enough that he could walk into traffic for all I cared, the photos from that wedding were heartbreaking. He’d put on a happy face in the family pictures, but his eyes gave him away. And it wasn’t like he could hide the scary gauntness in his cheeks. I’d thought he was surprisingly thin when I’d seen his picture on the clinic’s website yesterday and when I saw him in person, but at the wedding? Holy shit. In fact, looking closely, I was pretty sure he had on some makeup to at least try to cover the circles under his eyes.
I sat back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
As far as he’d known, I would never see those photos or his posts. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t an attempt to tug at my heartstrings so I’d give him another chance. Those were him living life after me, and he looked…
He lookedbroken.
I’d always said cheating was my red line. There was no going back after someone had cheated.
Obviously I’d stuck to that a year ago. Matteo had cheated. I’d kicked him out. We’d both… Okay, saying we’d both gone on with our lives was being extraordinarily generous, but life had gone on and dragged us with it.
After a year, I’d been so damn miserable, I must’ve asked a fae to just make it all go away. Make me forget.
Matteo had lost weight. Lost that sparkle in his eyes. From his sparse posts, he seemed to have lost his passion for anything except the animals he’d devoted his life to treating. Even that seemed to have dimmed—there was a video about six months ago of him holding a baby griffin. Griffins were absolutely his catnip, and the babies melted his heart like nothing else in the world. Holding one? Especially while it tucked its head under his chin, kneaded on his arm, and purred loudly? That should’ve had him grinning like a kid on Christmas.
He was smiling, but with about as much conviction as he had in the wedding photos and his clinic portrait.
In his post about us breaking up, he hadn’t made any excuses. He hadn’t tried to downplay what he did, or convince anyone that I’d deserved it. He hadn’t even responded to the people torching him in the comments, which they kept doing every time he posted. Though he did respond to one—someone who’d tried to insinuate I must’ve done something to deserve it.
No,Matteo had replied.This is on me.
It was entirely possible there’d been other posts and comments that he’d since deleted, but the one that still stood—unflattering comments and all—was the one where he owned what he did and apologized for it.
I lowered my phone and blew out a breath. I didn’t imagine I’d had too many charitable thoughts about Matteo over the past year. Today, though…
I kept circling back to yesterday. I hadn’t been used to life without Matteo because I didn’t remember. In that moment, I hadn’t known what Matteo had done. He’d told me we’d split amicably a few months ago, and when I’d asked if there was any going back, I hadn’t been able to deny the pain in his eyes when he’d sadly told me no.
Fuck. He could’ve kissed me right then. Suggested we go into the bedroom we’d shared. Told me that, yes, we could start over. I’d have taken him up on it in a heartbeat—the reconciliationandthe makeup sex.
But he’d told me we couldn’t go back.
