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I looked down at my hands which rested in my lap. I didn’t invite him in, nor did I tell him to go away. He made his own choice. The door closed and curiosity got the best of me. I lifted my gaze again. There he was, standing in the middle of the room. He looked at the broken cup, then at my hand.
Wordlessly, he picked up the wet cloth and came to sit by my side. He gently took my hand into his. This time, I felt his touch. It was even hotter than the tea, but the blisters were nonexistent in my mind still. He slowly pressed the wet cloth onto my wound.
“Does this hurt?” he asked. I shook my head. “Did you do this on purpose?”
I didn’t reply to this. But I think he knew.
“Anger and pain usually go together,” he pointed out. “But they unfortunately don’t cancel each other out, as you can see for yourself.”
I didn’t say anything to that either. There was nothing to say. I just wanted to sit in silence, allowing a strange sense of comfort to wash over me. I didn’t feel it when Luke was here, but it was here now. I closed my eyes, and at that moment, tears started to stream down my cheeks. I finally allowed myself toexpress the overwhelming grief that had been pent up inside of me from the moment I saw Cass’ lifeless body at the bottom of the stairs.
“It hurts so much,” I said loudly, not expecting any reply. “I feel like I’ve been broken into a million pieces, and they are scattered all around. I feel like I will never find all the pieces again.”
He didn’t even try to offer empty words of comfort. He knew, just like I did, that no words could ever heal the wound I carried. Instead, he just listened, allowing it all to just leak out of me.
“Cass liked to play pirates,” I suddenly said, my thoughts completely irrational, but I didn’t even try to stop the words from flowing. “She liked to explore the gardens. She had an infectious laughter, which annoyed me sometimes.”
I smiled at this. The notion struck me like lightning out of a clear blue sky.
“My older sister,” I echoed. “She loved the stars. On clear nights, we used to sneak out to the rooftop and stargaze. She was always afraid that Father would catch us doing it. Once he did, and I took the blame for it, saying I convinced her to go with me, while it was actually the other way around. But he believed me, because I was usually the ringleader.”
This thought saddened me.
“I won’t be anyone’s ringleader anymore,” I whispered, looking down at my hands, which rested in his. “I can’t believe she is gone. This all feels like a horrible nightmare and I’m expecting to wake up any moment.”
At that moment, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me onto his chest. It was an awkward embrace, as if neither of us was used to something like that, but suddenly, a floodgate of emotions broke loose inside of me. He held megently, offering a safe haven for my emotions, not demanding an explanation or an apology.
I thought I didn’t need anyone. I thought that I wanted to go through this alone, but he just proved me wrong. The truth was I didn’t want just anyone. I wanted him.
I wanted to allow myself to lean on him. I let go of the walls I built around my heart, embracing the vulnerability of the moment. I didn’t want to pretend that I was strong, when I wasn’t. I was grieving. I was in pain. I didn’t want to hide any of this.
I felt that with him, I could be who I truly was. I didn’t need to put on a brave face. After all, he already knew so much about me. And now, embracing me tenderly, I felt as if he had accepted my pain, my tears, my grief without any judgment, and in this acceptance, I could sense a small measure of comfort.
This was the moment when I stopped talking. I pressed my head to his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. That was all I wanted to listen to. We remained in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity, as if time itself had stopped in that moment of shared sorrow. I could never open up like this to Luke. I could never feel this way about him. And I knew that I had to tell him that. He deserved someone who would love him unconditionally. As for my heart, it belonged to someone else.
When we finally pulled away from each other, our eyes locked. I knew that mine were red and puffy from crying. But I didn’t care.
“Never be afraid or ashamed of how you feel,” he told me.
“Even if my feelings threaten to destroy everything?” I asked.
“Even then,” he assured me.
I knew that this wasn’t the time to mention anything. I just wanted to thank him for being there, when he got up.
“I’ll go see your father,” he told me.
I wondered if I said something wrong or maybe hinted at something. He was at the door when I called out to him.
“Adrian, wait!”
He paused for a moment, his back still turned to me. I quickly stood up, my heart racing as I approached him.
“I didn’t want to burden you with my pain,” I began, feeling that my voice was laced with vulnerability, but I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I told you. It’s alright,” he added, reaching out to brush a tear away from my cheek. “I just thought it might be best to give you some space to process everything that just happened, and I’m sure your father will come to see you any moment. Grief is never easy, and it is always better to grieve with loved ones who understand your pain.”
“Oh… well, thank you for that,” I said, feeling both relieved and confused. “I don’t even know what to say to Father…”
