In the Night

16 • A Foolish Game

S U N N I

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It wasn't like it was in the movies. It was the complete opposite to what I'd imagined, actually. There was no swell of grand romantic music that filled every corner of the room, no slow motion running and to be honest, the people around us didn't give a shit as to what was going on. No one looked on eagerly as the two lovers met, yearning to see how it finished.

I didn't feel much when my eyes caught sight of him. Rather than butterflies blooming in my stomach and my heart racing, I felt kind of, annoyed. I wasn't expecting this reaction, so rather than me try to hide the feeling, it portrayed itself as plain awkwardness.

Emerson breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of me. I hadn't even begun to board my flight when I heard him yell my name. He rushed over to me, and for a split moment I though he was going to pull me into an embrace, but by judging the look on my face he forced himself to halt right before me. We kept eye contact, our bodies mere inches apart but our minds a million miles away. Whatever this feeling I had for Emerson, was slowly fading the longer I stared at him. I was the first one to break eye contact, quickly looking down at my shoes.

"Hey." He breathed. I glanced up for a split second, then embarrassingly looked away again.

"Hi." I murmured.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"I'm leaving. Isn't it obvious?" I stated plainly, glancing around at the airport. He released an awkward chuckle, following my gaze.

After a moment of silence, he spoke once again. "Don't."

"I have to, Emerson. You don't understand." I responded. He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off shortly. "No, you really don't understand. You haven't been locked in the bathroom for hours on end because you were terrified of what the one you loved was going to do to you. You haven't been beaten and bruised by hands that once were soft and gentle."

With each word my rage was getting more prominent. Emerson's eyes were wide with sympathy, but I knew that no matter how hard he tried that he would never be able to love all of me. Because I could never give all of myself over to him. I had done that with Simon, and now I was trapped in a foolish game of cat and mouse, waiting for the predator to strike at any given moment.

Reigning in my anger, I sadly smiled. "I'm sorry, Emerson." I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to admit. "I could never love someone like you the way that I love Simon."

And with that harsh truth dangling in the air between us, I saw him shatter. We had never been in love, not at all, just mere infatuation, but out still hurt. It still hurt to stand there and admit your feelings, good or bad.

Despite my wishes, a slow tear fell down the side of my cheek, and I didn't bother trying to hide it. A robotic voice sounded over us, telling us that my flight was beginning to board. I sighed and looked at Emerson. He refused my glance, running his hand down his chin and walking away. He didn't look back. Not once. And for some strange reason, I felt a mixture of relief and guilt.

Had I let this guy on? Had he truly thought that what we had could bloom into something more than just a summer fling?

Reaching for the carry on that was parked beside my feet, I made my way over to board my flight. Sniffling, I handed the man my ticket and I crept on, lost in my own thoughts.

Had I really just managed to escape Simon? I couldn't fathom the thought. Although I was eager to get away from this abusive relationship, my heart was still broken. Despite everything he had ever done to me, I had loved him with all my heart. He was the one. I could feel it.

Sitting in my seat, I allowed myself to reminisce. Through all the fights and pain, he still put a roof over my head. He still provided enough money for me to occasionally splurge on something that I usually wouldn't. We still had food on the table every night and soft warm beds to sleep in. He was my home.

..

The flight went by relatively quickly, and before I knew it, I was standing in the busy streets of New York City. Fetching a cab, I requested where I wanted to go. We arrived a short time later, and I stood on the front steps, unsure whether to open the door or simply just walk away. Pretend it didn't happen. But deep down, I knew I couldn't just forget about it.

I pulled out my set of keys and gingerly unlocked the large wooden door. Inside was still exactly the same. The faint smell of cologne drifted through the air, mixed with the scent of laundry sheets. I placed my bags down on the ground and walked up the hallway, my boots clicking on the hardwood. Passing the bathroom I smiled at the memories, of me being pushed up against the sink in a fit of lust, the amount of love that I had felt that night. It swarmed me, and I had to continue on down the hall to prevent the tears from falling.

My hands trailed along the wall and I passed my bedroom. There were clothes still littered on the floor from when we had a fight, just before leaving for Cannes. I walked over and picked up one of his shirts, bringing it to my nostrils. The smell gave me comfort in ways that I now realised Emerson could never give me. Another tear fell from my eyes, staining the shirt below. Sniffling, I left the bedroom and continued down the hall.

My heart stopped suddenly at the sight of the linen cupboard. I shakily reached my hand to twist the doorknob, then faltered. Did I really want to see what laid beyond this door? Would it bring back too harsh of memories? I wasn't sure. So I opened it anyway.

The sight of the folded sheets that lay in a pile on the floor brought me to tears. They were there so that I wouldn't get cold while hiding inside. The overwhelming smell of my laundry detergent brought me to my knees, and I crouched down. My hands crashed at the sheets and I held them close to me, my sobs echoing loudly in the house.

In that moment, I knew I couldn't stay here. Reaching into my pockets I pulled out my phone, scrolling for the name that I hadn't called in years. The person that my husband had driven away. The one person that I had allowed for Simon to manipulate me into hating, for no reason at all. My heart beat wildly in my chest as I dialled the number, holding the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" The voice answered. My breath hitched in my throat and I didn't know how to respond. Her voice was so vaguely familiar, but completely different to how I remembered it.

Whispering, I responded. "Mom?"

The line went quiet, and for a moment I almost thought that she had hung up on me. But not a moment later, she spoke.

"Sunni?" There was a sadness in her voice, and I knew that my hearing from me was slowly breaking her heart all over again.

"Hi mommy, it's me." I said, tears dripping down my cheeks.

"Oh, baby." She said, and I could detect the emotion in her voice.

"Mom, I-" I wasn't sure how to ask the question burning on the tip of my tongue. "I-I want to come home, mom. Can I come home?"

And in that moment, I knew that Simon wasn't the one for me. He wasn't home. This was home.

T H E   E N D

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