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He turns his body fully in my direction, giving me his full attention. “Would you stop running the agency for me? Between the money you’ve earned, and the bookshop, you should have enough to invest in something else, right?”
I knew it was coming, but the question is still a punch to the gut. Before Andries, this business I had built was sort of my first love. Now, my actual true love is asking me to give it all up. “Some of those girls have kids and are counting on that money to live, I can’t simply close shop and leave them jobless.”
“I’m not saying you have to close up shop,” Andries insists. “Can’t you just sell the business to someone else?”
“I….” Nothing comes to my mind. I just don’t have an answer to give him.
“Look, I've thought about us a lot, and I can look past the lies and what you did to get where you are today, but you and I together like before while you are still running that place is not something I’m comfortable with.”
What hurts the most is that I know he’s being fully honest with me. This isn’t about a preference, or about Andries getting his way no matter what. Escorting and sex work is a real hard limit of his, and we won’t make it if I refuse to give it up. There is no easy way out of this for me.
“This agency is more than just a way to make money,” I say desperately. “I look after those girls to make sure no one hurtsthem or takes advantage of them. It’s not as black or white as it seems.”
“I know that,” Andries replies, exasperated. “Which is why I understand it might take some time to find the right person to take over, and I can wait for the day you turn the page on that chapter of your life and move on from it once and for all.”
He must be able to see the conflicted feelings on my face because he draws me into his arms, gathering me to his body. I take the offered comfort, nuzzling my face into his neck and letting my stress flow away for the time being. He knows I need time to think, there’s no reason to say so out loud, but for now we are together, and the air has finally been cleared. For that at least, I’m thankful.
“I want to show you something,” he says in a whisper, close enough to the shell of my ear. My interest is perked and when he looks me in the eye, he then adds, “I, um, I wrote a few poems since the last notebook I gave you.” He goes to his backpack and takes from there the leather carmine notebook I offered him for his birthday. My stomach flutters at the idea he never threw it away, but instead kept it to write his heart out. “While I’m sure some are terrible, you might find others more interesting.” He hands me the notebook and I can’t help but remain staring at him with parted lips. “Here.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I start flickering through the pages, my heartbeat steadily rising in excitement. “Do you mind if I look at them now?”
“By all, means…” he answers, running a hand on his hair, his face softening with a smile.
The first poem I lay eyes on has been written back in January, and my smile falls as I start reading it:
My mind has difficulty to comprehend
Why you felt the need to pretend
My heart is shattered and broken
All because you left the truth unspoken
The feeling of betrayal I cannot explain
Confused, hurt, and no longer feel sane
My adoration for you used to travel far
But all you left me with is a love scar
Andries peers over to check which one I'm reading and immediately then says, “Oh, that one was during our breakup, it’s bad, I know, I was mostly drunk, and…very heartbroken.”
Despite his comment, my eyes remain pinned on the page, the poem causing a pang to my heart. I can’t help but feel guilty and so damn bad at everything he went through because of my lies. In my world, lying and keeping secrets is just part of the job, but for him, it’s total betrayal.
“I’m so sorry for all you went through,” I tell him sincerely, my eyes going up to meet his. “If I could go back in time—”
“It belongs to the past,” he interposes, patting me softly on the arm. “I want us to move on.” Our eyes are locked for a moment and I find myself smiling at him. “Speaking of which…” He cuts eyes contact, taking the notebook from my hands and starts flickering through the pages until he finds the one he wants. “Look at this one.”
“Would you read it out loud for me?” I ask him, seeing he never read his poetry to me.
Andries seems slightly taken aback by my request, but finally obliges. “Um, okay, sure…” He takes a few deep breaths andholding the notebook between his hands, he clears his throat and puts on a more solemn voice.
“What you did to me truly cut deep,
“You were my dream yet I could no longer sleep
“But I realized it came from fear
