- Him -
*April 2, a year ago from present year*
I just told her she's coming back.
I stare at her rigid back and wait for her reaction.
Say something. Be mad at me. Be jealous. Be angry.
She moved to the sink and continued to fuss around. "For good?"
Turn around. Please. "Yes."
"Ah." I hear the water running. "You spoke to her?"
"She wants us back."
She stops moving. I wait for her reaction as I stood up and started to move towards her.
I was cut off when she turned around and smiled - actually fucking smiled - and said, "Well, I hope you meant you and her because if that us meant you and me and her then that's going to sound like a dance company."
And then she laughed.
I was never great at predicting things. Not even feelings. Most definitely, not feelings.
************************************
*April 2, present year (about an hour and a half before the wedding)*
She smiled and gave me a light wave, which I know meant she'd go inside, but which I felt meant a reprise of our last moment in my kitchen a year ago.
It might be the only chance to say this out. To let it out.
I mouthed what I should have told her outright that night. "Stay".
Stay. Ask me to choose you. Ask me to pick you. Ask me to love you. Because then I know you choose me, too.
And the way she smiled and the way her eyes shone with unshed tears I know she heard it. I know she knew what I meant.
What I wanted to say.
So for the last time, before I take on my final walk as a man who can think of her, I was granted her smile. And then she shook her head and mouthed what we are.
"No more".
Twitter: ajnotawriter
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