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“You started to antagonize me. Repeatedly. I’m sure you can tell I’m not the type of man who can be provoked. By anyone. Least of all, the kid who didn’t look like a kid anymore and who certainly did not dress like a kid in those nightclubs. So that mere interest grew into deeper investment the more you and Lan plotted against me. I had to retaliate. You retaliated back. Before I knew it, that interest morphed into raw obsession and mysterious possession. I didn’t understand the reasons and couldn’t find a logical explanation, considering I genuinely found you infuriating and not controllable material. Nonetheless, I made the decision that you couldn’t be with anyone else. So I married you.”
“Is that all you ever felt toward me? Obsession and possession?”
“Of course not. There’s always been constant fucking annoyance.”
“Gee, thanks. And they say romance is dead,” I joke even though a part of me shatters against the broken edges of my stupid heart.
That idiot can’t seem to take a hint and keeps attempting to heal itself from scraps.
I should know by now that Eli is capable of care, but not of love. He’s able to provide me with whatever I need—companionship and protection included—, as long as I don’t ask for his nonexistent heart.
And for some reason, that hurts worse than I would have thought.
Because as much as I try to hold on to the illusion, I can see it breaking before my eyes.
And the man I love will probably shove me aside and get on with his life down the line as I rot away with the passage of time.
Two days later,we go home. Mainly because Eli’s called in for a work-related emergency and I want to mourn the death of the hope that my husband will ever love me.
He likes me just fine, but hecan’tlove me.
I’m busy playing the cello for the fourth consecutive hour in preparation for a possible competition. I just need to take one final chance so that whether I succeed or blow it, I’ll have no regrets.
My phone vibrates on the glass coffee table. I pause, the mellow sound fading away as I look at the mural clock. Quarter past eight.
Leo said they’d probably be late today and that I should have dinner, but I have no appetite. No matter how many of my favorite dishes Sam cooked. Something she let me know she despised as she shook her head and left me in peace.
I grab my phone and frown at the unknown number flashing on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Ava, it’s me.”
“Vance? Where’s your old number?”
“I suspect it was blocked from your side.”
“I didn’t block you.”
“Then your husband did.”
“Oh.”
“Like he got me kicked off UK soil, for criminal charges. I’m in the airport before the travel ban takes place.”
“C-criminal charges? What the hell is going on?”
“I told you he’s insane, Ava. Listen, I couldn’t in good conscience leave without telling you what he did.”
I stand up, holding my phone in a death grip. “I don’t want to hear about my previous therapist or whatever he did to them?—”
“It’s about what he did to you!”
“M-me?” My heart lunges and sweat breaks out on my spine.
“Remember your friend Oliver from uni?”
“Yeah. He’s somewhere in South America.”
