Begin Again

January 20th 2018 ( part 2 )

"Let's talk," he said firmly.

I let out a heavy sigh, my weariness mirrored in his eyes. Does this cycle between us tire him out, too? I used to feel exactly that, and look where it led me. But avoiding the issue would only prolong the agony.

"Sure," I agreed.

We walked in silence to the small bridge near the fountain. It was a picturesque, fairy-tale spot, but my heart wasn't in the scenery. I sat on the edge of the well, and he knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his.

"Fen..."

"What happened to you, Philip Ace?" I asked, looking down at him.

"I can't..." he whispered, shaking his head. He looked at me with such raw sadness that a lump formed in my throat. He cupped my face, his thumbs tracing my skin. I trembled.

"Philip! Look at me! Look at me!" I demanded, though my vision blurred with tears I thought I had run out of. I had spent months crying—every hour, every minute. I thought I was numb to the pain, but here it was, fresh and biting.

I had accepted my mistakes. I had accepted his rejection. I had loved him too much, and in my fear, I had become insecure and desperate. But I was tired of fighting a war I had already lost.

"Aren't you tired of this?" I asked.

"If we're talking about being tired, I am beyond exhausted," I admitted, my voice steadying. "I should have done this a long time ago. We shouldn't have reached this point."

I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. I needed him to understand that after this, there was no going back.

"All my life, I've been chasing dreams. You were my dream come true, Phil—ever since I fell for you," I said, offering him a sincere, ghost of a smile. "It hurts to realize that the person I dream of is the same person who doesn't want me. I won't apologize for what I did; after all, I was once your stubborn girl."

I thought of how he used to call me his moon, the light in his darkness. It used to annoy me, but lately, it was the only thing that kept me going when I lost hope.

"I've been chasing you, Phil," I continued. "I can't even count how many times I've cried over these goddamn feelings. It hurts so much that I'd rather die than feel this pain. Every time I take a step forward, you take three steps back. Am I really not worth it? Did you feel trapped? All those times with me, were you just waiting to escape?"

I pulled away, stepping back. I wouldn't cross this distance anymore. Before I walked away forever, I needed one answer.

"Did you ever love me, Philip?"

He closed his eyes and nodded.

That was it. I stepped toward him, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch his face. I traced his features one last time—the eyes that once captured my soul, the stubble that tickled my neck, the mole on his forehead. I cupped his cheeks and leaned in, pressing my lips to his.

It started as a goodbye, but he deepened it, his warm hands pulling me against him. For a second, I felt like I was home. It was a spark of the old us, a dangerous, intoxicating memory. But I couldn't afford to be shattered again.

I gathered every ounce of strength and pulled away. The shock on his face mirrored my own. I didn't wait; I turned and ran toward the elevator.

He caught my arm just as the doors opened, his voice a whisper that sounded like heaven: "Feny."

Hearing my name from him was more powerful than any fireworks or victory. It felt like my senses were waking up from a long, dead sleep. But the elevator was closing, and I knew that if I stayed, I would break. I wrenched my arm from his grip and slipped inside.

As the doors closed, I leaned against the cold metal wall and finally broke down. Goodbye, Philip.

Wait—I stood up and pulled away from him. He said we were going to talk, not touch! Did he think he was getting lucky?

He sighed, defeated, standing in the spot I had just occupied.

"What? Is that all you have to say? That I'm beautiful?" I asked.

He chuckled, a dark, strange sound. If this was what Martha called "lifeless," then this was a version of him I didn't recognize.

"You're beautiful, wife," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "When are you ever going to believe it?"