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‘Sorry.Whatdid you say?’Asthough she hadn’t just passed out in front of him.
‘Comework for me.I’mlooking for somebody to run the video side of my business.’Thewords were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.
Whathad he just said?Whatwas it aboutFrancescaMarchthat made him act irrationally?Hecrossed his arms over his chest to stop himself from slapping his own face.Theair in the room stilled as though the very molecules awaited her answer.
Sheblinked.Andblinked again. ‘Areyou insane?’ she finally asked, incredulity dripping from her voice. ‘Haveyou actually lost your mind?’Herface paled, and she looked like she might be sick again.
‘Iknow.Sorry.Idon’t know where that came from.’Hetoed a discarded food container on the floor.Hisskin itched with embarrassment.Hehad been so overwhelmed by the need to help that he’d bleated out the first thing that came to mind.
‘Well, it was a pretty shit idea.Let’sbe honest, you don’t even know me anymore.’
Krishflinched.I’mnot sureIever did,he thought sadly.Thegirl he’d thought she was wouldn’t have left him for some guy namedNorman.
Ithad been a mistake to come here.Francescahad stirred up a host of emotions he'd happily been keeping in a closed jar.Now, the memories were pushing him off-kilter.Fiveyears was a long time, and both of them had surely evolved into different people with different lives.Heknew nothing about hers, and she knew nothing about his.Bestkeep it that way.
‘Okay…well…I’vegot to go.But,Francesca…do call me if you ever need help.Istill care for you.’
Thewords slipped out of his mouth and he waited for regret to hit him, but it never did.He’dsimply spoken the truth.Hewould always have feelings for her, want the best for her, even though they’d never be together.
Witha sad smile, he walked towards the door and pulled it open.Lookingback at her one last time, he realised he probably wouldn’t see her again.Hisheart beat faster. ‘Here’slooking at you, kid,’ he said, before he left.
Laterthat evening,Francescalay on her bed in the studio apartment where she’d been living for the past couple of years.Shecould cover the entire width in fifteen paces and the depth in ten, but it was her oasis: a place where she didn’t have to hide her pain or do anything except sleep and relax.Sheconsciously chose to separate her office from her home.Theextra cost was worth it; besides, her office was only a couple blocks away.Only823 steps.Keepingthem separate meant she could shut off.
Theroom was not overly fussy.Thewalls were a warm off-white; the bedspread, a clean grey; the rug, a natural sisal.Shewould have loved to liven up the room with some plants, but she would just kill them.Instead, she had a cactus collection on top of a chest of drawers next to the window.Eachcactus had a name.Freddy.Hannibal.Voldemort.AndHansGruber.
Asharp pain clenched her uterus and she pressed her hot water bottle into the skin directly on top, letting the heat go to battle for her.Herbody cried out for sleep after so much time in the office, but her mind wasn’t giving her the option.Itfizzled with regret.
‘Istill care for you.’
Krish’swords replayed over and over in her head.He’dalways been so much better about verbalising his feelings than she was.Theecho of his touch on her back rolled through her, connecting with memories of other times he’d stroked his fingers down her spine.
Whyhad she been so rude to him?He’donly been trying to help.Hehad always been the kind of person who hated to see others suffering, and suffering she was.Shemust have seemed pathetic.Asidefrom the lack of sleep, her cramps and nausea had been intense all week.Herperiod started two days ago.Usually, she’d spend this time in bed, but her workload left her no choice but to soldier through.Whilehandling the pain, her ability to talk politely with other humans suffered.Krishhad walked straight into a perfect storm.
Shemust have looked appalling for him to have offered her a job.Abitter groan escaped her lips.Shedidn’t want his pity.
Workingwith him—or anyone—wasn’t an option.Sheneeded as much flexibility as she could get in her career.Self-employment was the best choice for a woman with her issues.Thethought of co-workers watching the clock to monitor her time keeping…she shivered.
Francescahad been an employee in the past.Sheknew the drill: at first, her employer would be sympathetic when she called in sick because of the pain.Then, as time wore on and it happened more than a few times per month, the sympathy would diminish.Havingailments that people couldn’t see stretched compassion to its limits.Eventually,Francescawould quit because she couldn’t stand the side-long looks and snarky comments.
Fuckthem all.
Asthings were, she could set her own hours.Asidefrom the three weddings she’d take on per month, the only other time she crawled out of her office cave was to meet couples who wanted to book her—even then she tried to do as many of those meetings online as she could.Onthe wedding days themselves, it was always a game of chance as to whether she was in pain or not.Somedays she won; some days she lost.Buton every day, she kept moving forward.
Ifshe worked withKrish, he’d end up judging her, too.He’dfigure out pretty quickly that something was wrong with her.Atfirst, he might just think she was lazy.Thenhe would ask questions and, eventually, he’d realise why she ran away all those years ago.Sheimagined his face as he discovered the extent of her brokenness, her lies.First, the anger.Next, the pity.Then, the relief as he walked away.
Wouldhe understand that she’d done it for his own good?Tosave them both the trauma?
Probablynot.Shemoaned with despair.
Ofcourse, there was also the fact that she’d want to rip his clothes off all the time.Hardto get work done when fantasising about screwing your business partner on the computer desk.
Afaint scratching sound caught her attention.Sheglanced towards her kitchenette and the sagging black bin bag in the corner.Sheswore.Bysleeping in the office last night, she’d missed the rubbish collection, which included the compost bin under the sink.Thescratching noise repeated.
Shitballs.
Shehad already suffered through one rat infestation six months earlier, which had required a costly call-out from an ineffective pest control company.Thevarious poisons and traps they had set remained uneaten and unsprung.Thankfully, the rodents had eventually moved on of their own volition.
Tomorrow, she’d take the rubbish to work with her and dispose of it there.
