🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.15.

I basically zombie-walked my way through the rest of the week. Thankfully, I was able to get the occasional night of fitful sleep once extreme exhaustion set in. Honestly, it was a minor accomplishment not to break down in tears at my desk. I clung to those little victories in preparation for E-day.

Everything leading to E-day (which was Rebecca's clever nickname for my first trip back to my former condo), was preamble. She even offered to come with me for support, but I declined, spouting some nonsense about being a big girl.

By the time my cab dumped me in front of Elijah's building, I felt the cold fingers of panic close around my pounding heart. 

That's when I realized that I was not a big girl. I was a complete idiot.

It became painfully clear that I was not ready to revisit the past as soon as I stepped into the sleek marble and glass foyer of what used to be our home. A heaviness settled in my stomach, weighing down my legs and filling me with a sense of dread.  

After the longest elevator ride ever, I trudged up the cream-colored hallway of our condo's floor, counting the boring modern sconces along the way.

I was only there to check in on him, nothing more, I kept repeating over and over to myself. 

Blood thundered in my ears so loud I could barely hear myself think when I reached our door.

I knocked because I was too ashamed to use the key I still had in my purse.

"It's open!" Elijah's voice boomed from the other side.

Sucking in a deep breath I turned the knob and entered.

His scent was everywhere all at once. It was that distinct blend of subtle sandalwood mixed with expensive shaving cream and vanilla and oatmeal that I adored. 

The framed pictures of us still sat on the built-in shelves lining the hallway to remind me of when we were happy and unencumbered by secret lovers

I followed the sounds of a football game on the television to spot him on the couch.

Elijah froze as our eyes met. 

Hope immediately swelled and simultaneously died in my chest.

Massive inky bruises, like Rorschach blotches fading into sickly purplish-yellow edges, decorated his face. Elijah was covered in scratches, some large and held together with stitches, while others resembled tiny haphazard razor knicks. His left hand was bound in a plaster cast, set with several thin metal rods that poked out above his fingers.

Even worse, his beautiful blue eyes were glassy from whatever drugs the doctors gave him. 

"You look terrible," I exhaled.

"I know, right? I feel like shit too," Elijah chuckled, wincing through the pain. "You're here."

"I came to check in on you," I replied. "Your mom asked me to."

"Oh?" Elijah's expression sagged.

He reached his good hand up to scratch the divot in his masculine chin, a move that usually made me swoon. Elijah was more than a little spaced out but disappointed still knit his brow.

In spite of everything, I didn't want to hurt him.  

"Don't you want to talk about, us?" Elijah's crestfallen expression snagged the frayed edges of my heart. He'd grown so pale, almost sallow since I'd last seen him. "Full disclosure, I'm on a lot of painkillers, Isla, so I might not be at my best, but I wanted to see you."