"What are you doing?" I flinched at the harsh voice. Even though my back was to him I could still feel his hot glare burning me. I instantly felt guilt trickle into my thoughts, followed by panic but I stopped myself. No I thought to myself I have to do this.
"What are you doing home?" I asked, not bothering to turn around to face him. It was to let him know how much he didn't matter to me anymore, although, deep down I knew that it was because I wouldn't be able to face him without going back on myself. "I thought you were meant to be in Hong Kong" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He wasn't meant to be back until next week at the earliest and yet here he was, standing at the doorway of our – his bedroom.
"Business finished up earlier than expected" he said curtly, I heard the familiar clack of his Italian leather shoes on the hardwood floor "What. Are. You. Doing?" Each word was punctuated by a step. I licked my dry lips; I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. He snatched up the black dress that he had gotten me not too long ago. It had been lying next to the left of the suitcase as I debated whether or not I should take it with me. It was a beautiful garment; inky black with little hints of gold. Tom had surprised me with it, saying that it was worth millions because of its designer. He had stepped to stand next to me now; viewing the entirety of the crime scene. I could see his grip on the dress tighten out of the corner of my eye.
"I'm packing" I stated, continuing to fold my clothes before placing them in the suitcase neatly. I had spent the morning deciding what I wanted and what I didn't want. I needed to fit my life into the two bags I was planning on bringing with me. I had only made an exception for my books which I had packed first thing in boxes and shipped off to my new home. My suitcase would home my clothes and any other possessions I wished to bring along. My handbag would carry my essentials.
"Where are you going?" It was very subtle but his voice was beginning to lose the harsh, clipped tone. Was he actually starting to feel... something? Feel something for me?
"Away" I replied. I looked down at my hands, they were pressing down a folded pink jumper into the luggage. The jumper was old; it had been in my possession since I had met Tom, four years ago. It was baker-miller pink cashmere, Tom had complimented the colour and how soft it felt against his fingers. I distinctly remembered that shortly after saying how soft it felt, he kissed me and said that the softness did not compare to that of my own skin. I had giggled and kissed him back; letting his fingers caress me like he had with the material. He used to say things like that; talk to me like that; kiss me like that. But that was four years ago, a short time for some but a lifetime to me. Certainly, a lifetime for Tom.
There was an awful silence that followed; it was heavy with suffocating tension. Neither of us moved, it was as if we had been replaced with statues. "Dove..." Tom's voice was so soft I almost didn't register it but the use of his old pet name for me caught my attention. "My little dove" his voice remained soft; somewhat pleading.
I reluctantly met his gaze. I hadn't looked him properly in the eyes for such a long time. They were still a breathtaking baby blue colour which didn't help. I almost wished they were the ice blue that I had known for the past year but the frost seemed to have thawed. "Are you leaving me?" His voice was just about louder than a whisper now. Another pause. This patch of silence was even worse than the last. I gave up easily; looking down. I took a deep breath. "Yes." I heard him sharply inhale and I almost flinched at the sound. "I can't do this anymore" I said, I felt like he was owed some kind of explanation, even though it was fairly obvious why I was doing this. I had spent the past handful of months planning my escape and throughout the entire experience I kept wondering if he'd notice. I had been careful, moving money slowly; sneaking to Paris to look at apartments when he was away. I had even started to detach myself from him. It was for two reasons: firstly, to make leaving him hurt less (something that I hadn't accomplished) and secondly, to see if he'd notice. I would usually send him cute texts and be a very affectionate girlfriend but I wanted to see if he'd say anything if I refrained and to my heart's discontent, he didn't.
