Redemption

24 - Repairing

Chapter 24 - Repairing

My apartment feels different when I take my first step back through the threshold, the stale air making my nose wrinkle, the smell acting as a reminder that everything has been lonely. I drop my keys on the round, small side table I have right next to my door, the landing of the keys sounding extra loud, my ears not as accustomed to the noise as much as two weeks ago. They're used to the sound of nature, the crunch of fresh fallen snow, birds chirping from the tree branches, not this hollow room, one that's been untouched and left with nothing but the residue of anger and sadness and jealously, vengeful emotions.

I speed-walked to my door, my legs calves burning by the time I arrived, terrified I will have another run in with Harry, his apartment door, thankfully, remains shut. I thought about our silent interaction, wondering if I confused him, wondering if he wanted to know where I was going, wondering if he cared.

There are flowers on the kitchen island, red roses in one of my vases that used to be my mother's, and a card in placed neatly in front of it, a cute little gold heart staring at me. I leave my suitcase by the door, taking the letter into my hands, bending down slightly to take a sniff of the flowers before reading it, neat handwriting dark against the white card.

Amber,

I can't lose this feeling for a second time in my life. Let me make it up to you. Call me.

He doesn't leave his name, certain I would know it's him, bold, I think. It should bother me that he came into my apartment without permission but appreciate the effort he's putting into saving our relationship, the gesture full of nothing but sincerity. I did give him a spare key willingly, one that I made clear he could use at any point in time. It's helpful when his work hours are so spotty, never knowing when he will be off. It just made it easier for him to come here when he got off work, even if it was in the early hours of the morning, just so it gave us the opportunity to wake up in the same bed. They're fresh, and I bite back a smile thinking about Caleb setting them up in here, him taking a step back to admire his little set up, eyebrows pulled down in concentration.

My phone was confiscated at the retreat, held somewhere in a box with everyone else's phone, vibrating with texts from Zayn and Niall for the whole two weeks. I'm sure the silence was as painful for Caleb as it was for me, it being the first time we didn't communicate every day since we met. It's healthier that way, the space between us, letting the heat from our fight cool down.

When Maia, one of the retreat leaders, pressed my phone back into my hand, it felt like my finger could have scrolled for days, text after text after text on my screen. I decided to tuck it away in the glove box for the drive home, save it for later, safe from my eyes or my sticky fingers, ones that surely would have found the device and been captivated by it. I cranked my music extra loud, not interested in hearing the buzzing noise come from its vibrations.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I throw it on the couch, procrastinating a little longer to go through the texts, see if there's other ones that aren't from Niall or Zayn. I roll my suitcase to my room, unpacking and lighting a candle, letting the smell take over and replace the stale air, claiming back my space.

I notice my room in a way I haven't before, how bland it is, how there really isn't much going on besides my four posted bed, the wood still in great condition, my dresser, and the thrifted vanity and stool. There aren't decorations, no pictures of my family or friends, no medals from childhood sports, no card games or books, not one ounce of personality besides my floral comforter and white fuzzy blanket on top of it, one that faintly smells like Caleb. He wraps himself up in only that blanket every time he comes over, declaring that it was made for him.