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What is she doing here? What does she want? I feel a surge of anger and fear because I don't want to see her and she shouldn't be here.
“What do you want?” My words come out clipped and angry.
I see the surprise in her eyes, as if she can't believe that this is how I'd speak to her. “Michael, it's been a long time.” Her voice is sweet and seductive, but I don't trust her.
She's a snake in disguise, a snake that will bite and spread poison through every facet of my life.
“What are you doing here?” She flinches, as if my words cut through her like a knife.
“Why are you so hostile?” Her eyes are wide, and she almost looks ready to cry.
I arch an eyebrow at her, unable to believe that she would even ask that question. How could she expect me to be anything other than hostile after everything she’s done?
“You have three seconds to start talking before I close and lock this door for good.” I shouldn't even be entertaining her for three seconds, but I already opened the door, and I’m not about to close it in her face - she might just burn this place to the ground if I do.
“So hostile.” She tries to push past me, but I block the open door with my body. She gazes up at me with those lovely eyes and once again, looks a heartbeat away from crying. “I came to return something of yours.”
There’s nothing she could possibly have that would make putting up with her worthwhile, but I have a feeling she’s not leaving until she gets what she wants. So maybe it would be easier to just let her get this over with.
I stand there, waiting for her to tell me what exactly she's here to return.
She stares right back at me, not saying a word.
Finally, she lifts her eyebrows and looks past me into the house. “Are you going to invite me in or just be rude?”
After everything that she has done to me and the words that she has said, the fact that she has the audacity to say that I'm the one who’s rude is almost laughable. But again, I know none of this is going to be over until I submit to whatever weird demand she's making now. Even if I close the door in her face right this instant, she's going to stand there and keep knocking. If I call the cops and have her removed, she'll just make her way over again, and she’ll be angrier. No matter what I do, I’m trapped. Again.
So, I relent. Take a step back, let her into my home. And instantly hate myself for letting her in.
She walks around my living room, running her index finger along antiques, looking up at the ceiling. Just touring the place if she's considering buying it from me.... or taking it.
“So what were you returning?” I try to hurry her, but she turns and looks at me with the corners of her full lips turned down in a pout.
“Why are you in such a rush, Michael?” She says the words in an almost baby voice that makes my lip curl in disgust. She seems to catch my stare and shoves her hand into her purse before withdrawing and tossing a little velvet bag at me.
I reflexively catch the bag and she continues wandering as I look inside to see a gold watch. My stomach knots up as I look at the gold face, noting the time is wrong. This is the watch she gave me for our anniversary.
The watch she engraved with our initials and the date we met. The one that I hadn't missed when I noticed it missing from my collection when she moved out.
“Why are you giving this back to me now?” I lift my gaze and stare at her as she leans nonchalantly against the mantle over the fireplace.
She lifts a shoulder, her gaze wandering up over my head. “I don't need it. I don't even need the money from pawning it.” With a yawn, she winks at me.
Does she think this is news to me? Does she think I don't know who she married or that he has money? Because I don't care. Does she really think after all this time that she could hurt me?
“I have a feeling you might need the money more than I do.” As I say the words, I toss the bag at her, and she lets it hit the floor while arching a questioning eyebrow at me.
“I imagine I’m not the first ex - or the first man - on your tour of destruction tonight.” I adjust the sleeve of my shirt without even bothering to look at her. “Given that you cheated on me with him, do you think he's going to trust that he is safe from your... wandering ways?”
Her posture changes as her spine snaps straight, her shoulders square up. I know I've struck a nerve, and I hold back a smirk.
“Look at you, proving you still have feelings for me.” She takes a step closer to me and I take a step back.
“Disgust is a feeling, Cynthia. Good job.”
She stops moving, and I see fresh anger snapping in her eyes. “Don't pretend like you don't still love me. You haven't even tried to replace me.”
“I’m intentionally single, love. Don’t want to risk winding up with another version of you.” I let a slight smile curve the corners of my lips as she glares at me.
