Anna.
“Hey, Ann, it’s okay. Don’t cry,”
My legs are still wrapped around his waist, and his hands gently caress my cheeks, wiping away the tears that still haven’t stopped.
His face contorts. He doesn’t like seeing me cry, and that I do believe. For the first time, I believe in an expression that Henry shows.
What’s happening to me? At eighteen, crying was one thing, but now it feels immature. I thought I’d moved past the stage of heartache and all that crap, but now I’m experiencing it again.
I’m betraying my fiance, I’m in the arms of the one who once shattered my heart, feelings are resurfacing and I’m aware of it, I’m feeling the pain of his loss again and lamenting over it. That’s why I need to distance myself from here as soon as possible. It’s dangerous territory for me and for my well-formed and happy life.
I don’t love him. I don’t. NO. NO AND NO.
Henry.
She pushes me away, and I can almost physically feel my heart shattering again. God, this feels wretched. Holding her, tasting her, it felt so damn good. Now, she’s leaning against the door, her eyes tightly shut with tears streaking down her beautiful face. I know that look. She’s going through the same internal battles I did when I yearned for her but knew falling for her was a mistake. She’s fighting her feelings, burying them deep inside. But what she doesn’t realize is that she can’t hide them forever.
“Anna,” I say through gritted teeth, “you still want me. Maybe not as fervently as before, but more than you’ve ever wanted anyone.”
She defiantly shakes her head, and it enrages me. Can’t she see? I move closer, lifting her chin to make her look at me. I touch her chest, feeling the wild rhythm of her heart beneath my fingers. It’s racing, almost like it’s on the brink of exploding.
“We still have a connection, whether you accept it or not. You desire me, you need me. I’m just waiting for you to admit it,” I whisper close to her face.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she says, tears still streaming. The weight of those words, the way she closes her eyes and breaks down further after saying them, pierces me.
“Don’t say that. It’s tearing me apart, Anna. Those words devastate me,” I confess, feeling a deep, raw pain. Every time she utters them, my heart feels like it’s being ripped out, trampled, and discarded.
“Do you even remember how I felt when you left? Henry, I loved you so much… You were my everything. And then you left without a backward glance. I gave up everything for you, and you shattered me. You killed what was inside,” she says, pouring out the pain she’s hidden all these years. I know she’s hurt, and I hate myself for being the cause of it. But I can’t let her forget about me.
“I’ll never forgive myself, Anna. But if I’d stayed, they would’ve hurt you. I left to protect you. Loving you then, loving you now, I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of my selfishness.”
“I don’t want to hear your reasons. And stop saying you love me,” she pleads.
“I love you, Anna. I love you so damn much it’s excruciating,” I press on, desperate for her to echo the sentiment.
“Enough…”
“Look at me. Tell me you’ve moved on, that you’ve forgotten me,” I urge, cupping her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. The tears won’t stop, but I continue to press, hoping to hear the truth from her…
“Anna, a long time ago, I told you that because of you, I found happiness. And it’s true. You’re the only thing that brings joy to my life. When you came into it, you gave meaning to my very existence,” I continue, earnest in my words.
“Henry, I’m begging you, please stop,” she says, placing her hands on my chest in an attempt to push me away. But it’s futile. I’m stronger, and I’m desperate for answers.
“Anna, answer me,” I urge.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she says, her gaze dropping, unable to meet mine directly.
“You didn’t look me in the eyes when you said that,” I retort. She does so now, her expression fierce and challenging.
“Do you even understand? Put yourself in my shoes. You hurt me, you wounded me, and now you come back and claim that I still love you. I don’t, Henry,” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion.
Frustration mounting, I rake my fingers through my hair, “Then what was that kiss?”
“An impulse. I don’t know,” she mumbles.
“You don’t want to admit it. Deep down, you know you still have feelings for me. You hope that by denying it, I’ll disappear, convinced by your words. But I’ll never believe it because our bond was one of a kind. It’s not something that can be broken so easily.”
“It’s already broken,” she replies, feigning conviction.
“Keep telling yourself that. I’m not going anywhere. There’s you, and then there’s Jeremy. He’s my son, and his situation isn’t up for debate anymore. Soon, we’ll tell him the truth about who we are, what we were, and what we’ll become.”
I grasp her arm, trying to be as gentle as possible, though it doesn’t quite work out that way. Opening the door, I leave, more angered than I’ve ever been.
I love her. I won’t hurt her again. I need her to believe in me. I need her to trust me again. I need her to love me unconditionally like she once did. If I can’t make that happen… I don’t know if I can bear living without her ever again.