Nether

10. Hollow (Part Two)

I sit on the couch, whirling Caleb's heartline around my finger. Somehow, Caleb granting me my biggest wish of owning his heartline turned out to be more painful than I ever imagined. We've had arguments in the past, but he's never insulted me, and I've never hit him. I never imagined I could. Then again, I never thought I'd kill trolls, cross bridges, and Share with the enemy. Somewhere along the way, we turned into different people, and I can't recognize either of us anymore.

The clock chimes. One hour since Caleb left.

A minute passes and the door creaks open.

I don't turn around.

The door closes. Quiet footfalls pad forward and stop beside the sofa.

Still, I don't turn around. What for? Caleb's hazy outline in my peripheral vision is enough.

He lets out a long breath and walks forward, to the love seat before mine. Slipping off his jacket, he sits down and leans forward, elbows onto knees.

Silence spreads between us and lingers for a long time after. Months of unsaid words hang there, between us, loud and stifling. We messed up, both of us, and finding our way back to where we started unraveling is going to take us some time. That's our silence-- a searching type of quiet where I know we're wondering at what point in our relationship we diverged and whether we can ever get it back. As wrong as we each have been and as angry as we are, in silence we resolve to fix it... somehow.

Standing, Caleb walks around the coffee table and sits on the edge of it, before me. He reaches for my hand where I hold his heartstring and slips the red cord from my fingers. Setting it aside, he draws my heartstring from his shirt pocket and takes my fingers onto his lap. He ties the red thread around my wrist and stares down at it for a moment, then sets my hand back down on my lap where his lingers above mine for a second before slipping away.

I inch forward. In equal silence, I take his heartstring, loop it around his wrist and secure it. Stroking a finger along it, I hold his hand tightly. Our fingers interlock, a mutual apology.

We sit like this for some time, experiencing us, together, accepting that we are broken. This has been long coming. There was no way we could ever fix us if we didn't first accept that there was something to mend and that perhaps it can't ever be.

"What happened to us, Ro?" He shrugs, barely. Grazing his thumb along mine, he shakes his head. "I thought we had this, thought we were solid. Where'd we fall apart?" He lifts his eyes to mine. There's no anger there, just openness and the willingness to accept whatever words I have to say with no judgment.

I meet his stare with an honesty of my own. "I let us go," I confess.

My throat dries at finally hearing the words aloud. "Before my Crossing ceremony, I had so many plans for us, down to what side of the bed we would sleep on, what our morning ritual would be 10 years into our marriage...but I let it go." I take a breath to steady my voice. "When Crossing happened and magic denied me, I felt bare and broken and empty. I had no real powers, no place amongst our people. I hated being in my skin and I just wanted everything to go away, even you. Especially you..."

I bat away a tear, unwilling to let a wobbly voice or teary eyes dissuade me. "You were everything I wanted, while at the same time were everything that was denied me. I loved you as Caleb the person but hated who you were magically. You had everything I wanted. The future we planned together was still there for your taking, only I was no longer a fixed piece, but some interchangeable thing."

"Interchangeable?" He slides onto the edge of the table, my knees between his. Weaving a hand into my hair, he lifts my face. "It's always been you, Ro. Interchangeable? You've always—always had a place at my side, regardless of magic. Everything that's mine is yours."