𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 | g. w

56. you're not supposed to be here

Weeks had drifted by since the unexpected collision of their worlds at the book cafe. Today, Mia found herself drawn back to the familiar embrace of the cozy establishment, ensconced in the soft cushioned seat by the window, her thoughts meandering as she turned the pages of a new novel, 1984. Her mind, however, kept drifting to the entrance, anticipating the arrival of George, who she hadn't seen since that day he appeared arm-in-arm with someone who wasn't her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, George entered the café alone, his demeanor noticeably different—a subtle hesitance lingered in his gait, a marked departure from his usual confidence. Mia's pulse quickened, but she focused on her book, trying to shield herself from the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to engulf her. Attempting to act unbothered and as if her old flame hadn't just stepped into the cafe, but also keeping an attentive and peripheral eye on him.

With a determined yet cautious stride, George made his way toward Mia's table, his eyes fixed on her. She looked up, their eyes locking in a moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Despite the turbulence of emotions churning within her, Mia maintained her composure, closing her book and placing it gently on the table, her gaze unwavering as George took the seat across from her.

The air between them crackled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, a tense silence enveloping the table. Mia, however, was the first to break it.

"You're alone today," she observed, her voice calm and composed, betraying none of the turmoil within. Jealousy scratched at her insides, but she kept her composure as best she could nonetheless.

George nodded, a hint of regret shadowing his features. "Caroline and I... things didn't work out," he confessed, a trace of vulnerability in his tone as he averted his gaze briefly before meeting Mia's eyes again. "I wanted to talk to you, Mia. About that day at the café."

Mia felt her heart quicken at his admission, a mixture of surprise and trepidation washing over her. "There's not much to say, George," she replied softly, her voice carrying the weight of their shared history. "Our paths crossed unexpectedly. It happens."

"But it meant something to me," George confessed, his gaze earnest as he sought understanding in Mia's eyes. She became increasingly nervous by his admission, her cheeks inflamed. "Seeing you there, with Dorian, it made me confront things I've been trying so hard to push away."

"What things?" Mia inquired, her curiosity tempered with caution.

George hesitated, carefully choosing his words. "Regrets, mostly. About us, about how things ended between us. I've been grappling with it, Mia. Wondering if I made the right choices."

Mia's heart softened at the sincerity in his words, the raw honesty catching her off guard. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Sometimes, George, the choices we make have consequences. And we have to live with them," she replied gently, her voice tinged with growing anger. She was angry with him, had been so for a while now, and she couldn't understand how he could leave her the way he did, only to try and make her jealous (and being successful at that, but he didn't need to know that particular piece of information) and now, what? Asking for forgiveness? Attempting to clear the air? Wanting her back? Adding salt to the wound she had been trying to heal on her own?

"I know," George murmured, a hint of remorse evident in his voice. "I just needed to see you, to make sure you were okay."

She tried and failed this time, to keep calm. "Well, as you can clearly see. I'm fine. I'm dealing."

"That's good. Great even", he muttered, bordering on inaudible. He barely even met her eyes, a clear sign to anyone but Mia, that he was nervous to know if her feelings toward him had changed at all.

"And you? How are you?", she asked back, wanting nothing more than for him to either say exactly what was on his mind so they could move on, or to exit the cafe altogether, leaving her to wallow on her own. Gathering some semblance of courage, she said; "You must be gutted about Caroline. She liked you."

He furrowed his brow, confusion written on his face, perhaps even a hint of annoyance, if she were to hazard a guess.

"Yeah. She did, and I quite liked her company as well."

"Well, then why would you—-"

"—She's not you."

Mia halted in her actions, not at all prepared for what he had just said. It seemed like a bomb had been dropped in her wake unexpectedly, and she was the only one left alive to wonder what the hell just happened.

"Don't." Mia swallowed hard, her emotions churning inside, threatening to spill over. She fought hard to maintain her composure, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. She needed to gather herself before she could say anything further. George's unexpected confession had stirred a whirlwind of feelings she thought she had buried deep within.

"I... I need a moment," she finally managed to say, her voice strained. Without waiting for a response, she hastily gathered her belongings, clutching her book tightly, and rose from her seat, her gaze fixed on the ground as she hurried toward the exit.

George reached out, a mixture of regret and urgency etched on his face. "Mia, wait. Please, let me explain."

Torn between the desire to confront him and the overwhelming surge of emotions, Mia paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle. She turned to look at George, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There's nothing to explain, George. Some wounds don't heal by reopening them."

With that, she pushed the door open and stepped outside, the crisp air hitting her face as she walked away from the cafe, her heart heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions. George remained seated, watching her leave, a deep sense of regret gnawing at him for what had been said, for what had been left unspoken, and for the pain he had clearly caused.

As Mia walked away, she felt a mix of relief and anguish. She knew this encounter was inevitable, but the reopening of old wounds had left her shaken. She needed time to process it all, to let the emotions settle back into the recesses of her heart where they belonged.