Mike showed up unannounced— or maybe I wasn’t just paying attention to messages I receive. As he said, he was sending me tons and I haven’t replied. I’ll probably check later to know if it was true, or today was his day off and he didn’t have anything to do.Mike was standing near my wooden easel with his hands in his pockets. He was looking at me with a wide smile and a bit of excitement dancing in his eyes. I didn’t know what though, for. I chuckled and shut the door closed behind me. I held Elon’s left hand to walk near Mike. “What’s that smile about?”“I’m just glad you haven’t forgotten about that,” he said, cheery. “You know, that you owe..”“You’re not going to ask me to pay it right back now… are you?”I pulled a chair, and gestured Elon to sit there. I moved around to get another chair for Mike, before I turned to Alicia. “Thank you for looking after Elon, Alicia.” “I’m glad to be of help to you, Eleanor.” She smiled, but I could tell she wanted to hear about what happene
Mike left. That was our cue to get inside. Elon walked beside me, his small hand in mine. He talked about the cars parked outside, the flowers lining in the pathway—but I could I barely registered his words. My mind was busy pondering over what happened.I wasn’t planning to think about it— but looking at the house made me feel the same tension I felt this morning. I hated to, but it felt like a ghostly scene that I couldn’t get rid of. “Dad didn’t bring his black car. I always thought it’s his best out of his three. It’s super cool!” Elon tugged at my fingers, trying to pull me into his excitement.I forced a small smile. I looked down to him and squeezed his hand lightly. “Yeah. I know, baby. You always tell me that.” I breathed. “Do you want me to borrow your dad’s keys so we could try driving it?”His grin was wide. “Can we?”I nodded. As we reached the entrance, I noticed the doors were already open. Mathilde and Anikka were there, waiting. And they had always been attentive,
I hesitated. Looking at the new message I was about to send, seconds stretched with anticipation. Was apologizing the right thing? He was late. He wasn’t answering my calls.Would this sound like I was pleasing him too much?My phone buzzed again, disrupting my thoughts. Damian’s name flashed on the screen, and I once again contemplated if I would answer it.But I was sure as hell he’d be mad if I didn’t.I inhaled sharply before swiping towards left. "Hey.""Eleanor," his voice was firm, and edged with somethingI could call displease. "Where are you?"I swallowed. "I just texted you. Mike dropped us off. I—" I hesitated. "I meant to text you earlier, but it slipped my mind. I'm sorry."It must have been when Abby called me on our way home, I didn’t have the chance to inform him.There was a pause on the other end. Not that long, but enough to make my pulse beat fast."You should have," he finally said with his tone neutral. Disappointment was evident, so was irritation. But I didn’t
Chapter 39: Emerging AngerMy heart was in discord, thrumming with a mixture of uneasiness, and concern. I didn’t really had a choice when he spoke to me looking like that. He sounded impatient, and I definitely didn’t want to throw the good atmosphere in the living room so I stood up and followed, with hesitant movement.We walked upstairs, and went into the master bedroom. I was the one who shut the heavy wooden door behind me, and I felt the tension rightafter.If this was about me not telling him beforehand that we left with Mike, then I could apologize. But why did he look so bothered?“Damian, you weren’t answering my calls, so—”He turned to me with his jaw tauted and his gaze dark with something unreadable. That made me stop— and threatened.I held my breath.I was wrong. This wasn’t just because of that. There was something else and I feel that I could guess what it was.Elizabeth.“What happened this morning, Eleanor?” he finally asked, his voice now low but firm.I let out a
“I can’t believe this…”My voice trembled despite my best efforts to keep it steady. My hands were shaky. I have given up on saving my composure. The calm and collected facade just dropped and I knew I would have to unknow everything for me to keep a straight face and continue giving that low tone.At this point, I wasn’t even surprise anymore. Not even this powerful, heart-wrenching pain could hold a candle against my building anger. Everything kept pushing me to my edge and I felt so done bein trampled on.No. They couldn’t do that over and over and expect me to apologize even when I was on the wrong."You know what, Damian? It doesn’t even matter anymore. Do whatever you want. Let her move in. Make her feel comfortable.” I breathed hard, trying to end this conversation once and for all. “Do what will help you sleep at night, but just know that you’ll lose your right to Elon.”His brows furrowed. "Eleanor, it’s not—"I angrily shook my head. I wasn’t and didn’t want to give him a ch
Chapter 41: Big DecisionI walked down the hall, my fingers tracing the details of my ring on my fourth finger as I moved. My steps were small, making little to no sound. I was afraid Elon would hear me and he’d come to ask me down to continue the small talk we were having before Damian arrived.That, I can’t do right now.I headed to my room— the guest room sitting just beside Elon. Walls painted cream and dark brown, with three of my paintings back when I was college hanging in the wall. It was where I had been staying.And Damian hadn’t said anything about it— just as expected. Surely, he wouldn’t think we’d still share a bed together even after all that. Except the room felt quiet draining when entered. The space felt foreign— or was it the feeling, after letting it all out like a mad woman?I sat in the bed and stared at the floor— then to my right hand where my ring was on. Looking at it pained me, which was strange, because I had always hold on to it because it gave me so much
“I’m sorry..”Sorry? He was sorry about it?What he said barely registered at first. It felt implausible that I actually thought I was hearing things, but I heard him sigh and take a few steps, which rattled me.So, when I turned, and saw Damian standing a few meters away from me, I intently meet his gaze to try and weight down the emotions lingering there.He was sorry? Was I hearing it right? Damian apologized to me… just as I thought he’d avoid me as I did?I couldn’t do anything when it repeatedly echoed in my mind, clattering something loose in my chest. After all these years, I went through all the pain, all the betrayal, and not once did I ever hear him apologize to me— not even an explanation, or even a reason why he did that. Why now?I struggled to breath. I couldn’t continue walking even if my mind wanted to. I should have walked straight. I should have gone straight to Elon’s room like I intended, ignore him like I planned—like he deserved. But instead, my feet double cro
My fingers curled around the doorknob—and I chastised myself upon giving away seconds of hesitation. Really… After saying that I had enough, that one statement was all it would took for me to swoon and reconsider talking to him?“Okay..” I breathed, not taking my eyes off him. “Let’s hear it.”Let’s talk about it. This will prove my weak resolve when it comes to him, but I wouldn’t pretend to be unbothered and uncurious. He wanted to talk about it suddenly like he owe it to me? Okay. Afterall, I had been dying to hear the answers from him. Why did he cheat on me with Elizabeth? Was it truly because I wasn’t enough?Agreeing to hear him out was pure stupidity. But I didn’t care.“Elizabeth and I started even before you find out. Even before the two years you know…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hands clenching at his sides. I kind of saw that coming. Of course. Elon’s turning eight now. I knew they had been a thing probably after she gave birth, or maybe even before. I expec
The apartment was quiet when I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, took off my shoes, and coat, draping it over the chair by the door instead of hanging it up. I had to go to bed. It was late and I was tired, but my mind would not relax.I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water because I wanted to keep my hands occupied. The lights of the city shone outside the window, distant and static. I drank slowly and leaned against the counter.My phone was vibrating on the table.Mike.You alright?I exhaled rapidly and shook my head. I didn't know why I was surprised. He always listened. Even when I didn't want him to.Yes. You?He responded after a few seconds.You know me. Always okay.I stared at the screen. I could imagine him saying it, that small smile in his voice, the way he always evaded answering without technically lying.I didn't respond. I had no idea what to say.I put my phone on the counter, had another sip of water, and shut off the kitchen light.
After dinner, the gallery quieted down to a comfortable hush. The takeout containers from leftovers were on the desk, and Alicia was scrolling through her phone, most likely reading the emails she'd put off eating. Mike settled back into his chair, his eyes straying in my direction every so often but not speaking much.Abby had already caught on.She always caught on."You're working late again?" she asked, putting on her coat.I shrugged. "Might as well. Got some things to wrap up."She looked at me knowingly but didn't push. "Alright. Don't burn yourself out."Alicia yawned, stretching her arms above her head before standing. "I should get going, too. Text if you need anything.""Will do."One by one, they left, their goodbyes soft in the quiet space. The gallery always felt different at night—still, untouched, like it existed in its own pocket of time.Mike hadn’t left yet.He was still in his chair, watching me. Not in an expectant way, not like he was waiting for me to say someth
I didn't want to continue argue with him. I didn't want to stay standing here, gawking at him, judging for whatever he would say because we both knew I'll never be able to believe him. There was no point.So, I gave him a once-over, before I slowly trudged in. But just as I was supposed to walked away from him, I felt a hand on my wrist."Are you not going to ask what happened to me? Aren't you curious?""Why would I be?" I asked, jiggling my wrist for release. "You're dead to me."Those words will hunt him. He probably didn't expect I'd say those after all these years we hadn't seen each other, but I couldn't care less.I was able to took back my arm from him, and when I did, I continued walking and didn't look back. He didn't pursue me any longer either— which was better for the both of us.We were nothing beside strangers now, and a conversation wouldn't do us any good.I headed back to my gallery after that, where Mike and Alicia were waiting for me. They were at the main office,
I woke up to the gentle hum of the just city beyond my window, the sun's first light filtering through the drapes. It was a quiet morning, free of the weights of workloads. I stretched, breathed deeply, and reveled in the smell of fresh linens and paint in the air—a home aroma that I had missed.It had been weeks since Mike and I returned. The transition had been smoother than I had imagined. The city was the same, the streets still throbbed the same, but I was different. I was no longer the fractured woman who had leave to heal. I had healed. I had crossed seas, strolled through ruins, and walked beneath skies Elon never had the chance to wander. And in going through it all, I wrote in his journal. Each letter, each dip of my pen, connecting me to him. My travels became his, my memories akin to what could have been his if only he lived.And somehow, it was as though he was present with me in every break of dawn and every foreign street.Mike accompanied me during those times— for mor
What Mike had said stuck with me. I stewed over it for days and let the words occupy the vacant space I didn't realize existed.It was a peaceful morning. Sun streamed through the blinds of our tiny rental apartment in a city I enjoyed but would eventually abandon. That was when I made a choice and half-heartedly told Mike that it was time to head back home.I did not want to go, really. I had learned something special this year—something good and freeing. But it was not going to last. I knew that the entire time. Maybe, in a sense, the trip had already done what it was supposed to: heal me from all the pain and trauma.At some point, we couldn't keep doing this—traveling. And I knew that. So, we booked our tickets home, packed our bags, bought souvenirs.The city did not shift when we returned. That was the first thing I noticed, and perhaps the most strange. It was as if it had waited for us, as if nothing had been disturbed. People still walked the streets, the same coffee houses s
The next day, I really left.The first night out of the town was strange to me—like freedom and something I couldn't quite comprehend myself. We rode a plane that soared through the air in silence as we departed, and when we arrived, the air gave me a different feeling. It was thicker and foreign. It was as if I had entered someone's dream. It was as if I had entered Elon's.We didn't really have a plan. We had a list of places that Elon had written in. Cities he circled in travel guides, underlined in the newspaper, and spoke of as if he knew he'd never live to see. So, I wrote for him. I started writing in his journal—first, just scribbles. Dates. Places. How the sidewalk felt beneath my feet, how the ocean echoed in a city he never visited. Then it became more. I wrote to him, as if he could read my words, as if he could follow me in the pages. By taking his journal and making it mine, I hoped to allow him to travel through me.The months went by like that. The ink from my pen tra
Morning came slowly, and sunlight dragged through the windows as an afterthought. And then my head throbbed, but not like grief did. Too many drinks, too much laughter, and just too much life for the first time in what seemed like forever left a dull ache.My body weight felt different. So I guess it was just not like the air was settling into my mattress and destroying me with images of a life that never happened.And then he appeared—Mike.Jacket and boots were tossed over the couch. His chair across from me was crossed with arms and a head tilted back—he was asleep. Peaceful. Thinking of him in that way made me feel something weird in my chest that I had not felt in a while. Comfort. Safety.Sitting up too quickly made me feel sick—nausea turned my stomach. That motion probably got him awake because he cracked an eye open and smiled lazily."You look like hell.""Thanks." The sleep and dehydration made my voice rough. I swallowed, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?""Little past te
The night air was cold against my skin on the porch as I wrapped my fingers around a pot of tea. Distant cars hummed, leaves rubbed against each other, and it was the silence I had grown accustomed to. The last few weeks, I had been locked in this state, crying in a house that was more mausoleum than home.Yet somehow, tonight felt different. Perhaps it was the pain of carrying so much suffering for so long, or maybe the silver moonlight bathing the street lit something I had gone blind to. Whatever the reason, the words flew off my lips before I could stop them."I can't do this again."That realization settled in my chest—heavy, liberating. But it never felt complete—yet. As if drawn by something unseen, I stood and walked inside slowly but deliberately. My feet carried me up the steps, through the hall, and to the attic door. I hesitated before pushing it open, the musty scent of old wood and forgotten things greeting me.My fingers searched against dusty shelves for something—anyt
"You really want to pick yourself up, Eleanor?"I stared at him, my fingers floppy around the edge of the blanket, my mind sluggish from days of barely moving, barely eating. The weight of his question sat between us. Did I? Did I want to be better, or was I just pretending because I was tired of seeing his disappointment? My lips parted, but I hesitated. And then, slowly, I nodded.Mike studied me, unreadable. He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, his gaze moving toward the ceiling as if debating something. When he finally spoke, his words were unexpected."Run away with me. Leave this town."I saw him blink. I scoffed—a weak, breathy sound barely above a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Mike."He didn't correct me. He just watched as I shook my head and brushed it away like it was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it wasn't nothing. But to me, it was absurd. Leaving the place that held every shattered piece of me was never an option. I could barely dream.This was my punishment. Stayi