Life Is What You Make It (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Part 26: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

It Hits the Fan

When I wake the next morning, I resolve to make myself productive. I shower quickly and start cleaning my small apartment. As I finish, I make a mental list of things I need at the market. I grab my keys, wallet, and phone and walk toward the door. As I open it, I see Anna standing just outside. She looks nervous, like she's contemplating running back to her own apartment.

"Hi."

"Hi right back at you," I say, feeling confused.

Anna just stands there, staring at me.

"Did you need something? A cup of sugar? Vocal cords, perhaps?" I ask.

"Can we talk?" Anna asks, still looking nervous.

"Sure," I say, opening the door wider so Anna can enter.

Anna walks past me, then turns and rubs her hands against her jeans. This must be bad if it's making Anna sweat. "Have you checked out social media this morning?" Anna asks. "No, I haven't," I respond as my stomach drops. Yup, it's really bad.

"You should," Anna says, taking my hand to lead me to the sofa.

As Anna and I sit, she prods me by glancing at the cell phone I still hold in my hand. I open the browser and take a deep breath. I search to one the entertainment news sites, and I freeze at the first title I see: Is the Romance Already Over? Wonder Woman Caught with a Superhero.

I scroll through the article, reading quickly. The story states that, while Tom is in Paris, I'm seeing Chris Evans. I move to the section that contains pictures. Sure enough, there they are. Pictures of Evans and me the day we literally ran into each other on our run, and then some from last night though a few are actually of Evans and Simone. And the Evans/Simone pictures are pretty racy. Damn, we do look alike!

I continue reading. It says that Evans and I have been having a fling since around the time Tom and I met. A 'source close to Ms. MacKenzie' says that, at first, I couldn't decide which to choose. Then, when Tom decided to stay in Paris for the UNICEF event, I got angry and decided it was Evans I wanted.

I switch off my phone and resist the urge to throw it across the room. Instead, I drop it on the floor and turn to Anna. "It'll be okay. You'll see. You'll talk to Tom and explain everything, and you'll both have a good laugh." "What if he doesn't believe me, Anna?" "Well, maybe I'll just have to fly to Paris and knock some sense into him," Anna says, smiling softly. I tear up, and Anna takes me in to a fierce hug.

And Then It Gets Worse

I finally get Anna to leave, though she asked about 100 times if I'll be okay. I assured her I'd be fine, though in all honesty I feel like I'm about to crawl out of my own skin. As she closes the door, I pick up my phone and press Tom's name in my contacts. It goes straight to voicemail.

I sit on the sofa, scrubbing my hands through my hair. So talking to Tom is out of the question right now. That means I have two choices. I can either continue calling his number so that, when he does check his phone, he'll see that he has, I don't know, around a million missed calls. Or, I can go on with my day. That's it, I'll keep busy so that I don't lose my mind.

I grab my things from the coffee table, exit my apartment and walk toward the market two blocks away. I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I look at the screen, but I don't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"So you're the reason that Chris broke off from seeing me."

"Emma?"

"That's right. You didn't think we'd find out, did you?  It's bad enough that you two were probably sneaking around behind my back, but to hurt my brother like that?  How could you, Mia?"

"It's not like that, Emma," I say, letting out a sigh. "It's not me in the pictures. Well, at least not the salacious ones."

I hear a snort on the other end of the line. "Right. Now pull the other leg." 

"Emma, have you heard from Tom?"  There's silence on the other end. "Emma, please," I say, trying to keep from bursting into tears.

"I called him first thing this morning when the news broke. Apparently, he'd already been contacted by Luke. It's not Luke who should have told him, Mia; he should have heard it from you."

I feel my heart break at her words. No, that's not true. It's more like someone is driving an ice pick through it very slowly, enjoying the agony I'm being put through. "Emma, please believe me. I wouldn't do that to Tom. There's nothing between Chris and me. He's seeing a woman who looks like me is all," I say, though I know it sounds inconceivable.

"Seriously, Mia? That's the story you're going with? The charade is over. You and Tom are over. He never wants to see you again. It's pathetic that you can't come straight out with it, but you have to live with yourself. Goodbye, Mia," Emma says, then she ends the call.

I stop walking and just stare at my phone. 'You and Tom are over' Emma said. I turn and run back toward my apartment, not caring about the people who are staring at me.

As I make it inside, I run to my room and throw myself on my bed. Remember how I said Mia doesn't cry? Broken-hearted Mia does. I sob into my pillow, wishing I could just talk to Tom. Surely I can clear this up. Like magic, my phone begins to vibrate. When I look at the screen, I see who's calling.

"Tom." There's a moment of silence.

"Mia, I need to say a few things, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't speak."

"Okay." There it is again - the crawling-out-of-my-skin feeling.

"I think...I think maybe things just moved too fast for us. You know, maybe we jumped into things too quickly. We...we don't really know each other well. Though things...were said...I understand that the excitement of a new relationship can make one throw caution to the wind. I think...well, I think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

"Tom..."

"No, Mia, I've thought about this, and I've come to the conclusion that I said...things I didn't mean."

Now the ice pick to my heart is being plunged in over and over with no regard for the damage that's being done. A sob escapes me, and I cover my mouth so Tom will not hear.

"So, there's nothing I can say to change your mind?" I ask, trying to control the tremble in my voice. There's silence, then... "No."

I don't say goodbye. I can't. Instead, I simply end the call, then sit, staring at nothing. As the numbness starts to fade and I begin to cry again, I realize something. Half of my heart is gone, and I don't know if I'll ever get it back. I curl up on my bed, wondering if a person can live with only half a heart.