Jonah Marais
➵
One.
A simple word.... A simple word?
No. One exercises the power to change everything.
One temptation. One falter. One decision. One minute. One relationship down the drain, all because of one mistake.
When he returned home from tour she didn't approach him in the airport like she had in the past. She met his eyes, but there was no smile evident there.
In that moment, his own grin faded because he knew. He knew that she knew what he'd done.
Two weeks before he was to return home, a manager saw her boyfriend of a year and a half pulling a girl he hadn't known prior to that night into a random room backstage.
The overseer had barged straight into the room and stopped them. It made her nauseous imagining what would've inevitably occurred if they hadn't been interrupted.
When Jonah got home from the airport—gray walls seeming to close in on him rather than welcome him— he cried. He cried when he confessed what happened. He cried while he grieved over his mistake. He cried as he pleaded her to stay with him.
She didn't utter a single word. She shuffled right past him, feet catching on hardwood, exhausted. All traces of her disappeared by the time the sun slipped above the horizon the following morning.
And all lead up to this point.
She sat on the dusty floor of her new apartment, surrounded by wrinkled cardboard boxes, trying to convince herself to go through with it.
Deciding, she pressed record.
"Jonah. By the time you're seeing this, it's been three years. Three years since I left. I'm sorry that I did so without saying a proper goodbye. If I had, I would've starting yelling, crying, in front of you."
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
"At this moment in time, I'm still... in love with you. Yes, I'm angry. Hurt beyond...
beyond words. But I still care about you. Maybe time can heal that. And maybe it can't. Won't. Is three years enough time? I don't know. In three years, we'll be twenty-two. You could be married or in a serious relationship by then. So could I. But... maybe we won't. Maybe in three years, I can forgive you. Maybe in three years we can try again."
;
She was leaning over the counter in her disorganized bathroom when her ringtone reverberated off tiled walls.
Twisting the cap back on the mascara she was applying, she answered the call.
"Hey, Corbyn."
"Hi, (y/n/n)."
"You're calling pretty early," she commented idly. "What's up?"
"Well," he started, hesitant. "Today is the day,"
"What day?"
"You don't... remember?"
"Uh...." she stalled, desperately racking her hopeless brain for anything she failed to recall.
"Happy birthday?" she tried, pulling a pained expression.
Corbyn laughed, notably less enthusiastic than usual.
"You seriously don't remember?"
"No."
He paused. Sighed softly.
"It's been three years, (y/n/n)." His voice was so gentle.
"Three years since...."
She trailed off in the middle of her sentence.
Mindlessly, she drifted down the length of the hallway, to the living room.
Three years ago today, she sat on that floor in this apartment and recorded a video that she sent to Corbyn immediately afterward. Then she deleted it, instructing her friend to show it to Jonah in three years time.
;
She was working on tedious paperwork in her bedroom when the doorbell rang. She stood, limbs aching in protest, and jogged to the entryway. Pulled the front door open.
Jonah.
It was not a movie-worthy moment. There was no slow motion or sweet music or perfect lighting. It was simply two twenty-two year olds; a young woman in sweatpants and a more-than-friend of her past.
Jonah shot her a small, nervous smile.
"Has three years been long enough?"
Her mouth hung open, no words escaping. Waves of shock numbed her entire body.
Then a figure appeared behind Jonah.
"(y/n), who's this?"
"This is Jonah... one of my old friends," she managed to choke out after swallowing thickly.
"Jonah," she continued. "This is my husband."
"Husband," he repeated. His eyes clouded over.
It was silent as the young men shook hands.
"It's nice to meet you," her spouse offered kindly before turning to her.
"Well, I'll let you two catch up. Honey, I'll set this inside." He slid past her in the doorway, carrying take out from her favorite restaurant downtown.
She remained stock still, all the emotions from her shared past with Jonah rushing back.
With a start, she realized she was about to... apologize. Apologize for what?
She squared her shoulders and stared at him. He didn't say a word. Didn't meet her gaze.
"Three years was long enough. Just not for me," he whispered hoarsely, after too long a pause.
A pause where her heart was hardened, recalling and reliving every blow of when he cheated on her and crawled back, expecting her to forgive him and move on.
He glanced up at her, broken.
Slowly, he walked away.
She shut the door.
—
