Page 123 of Hamartia

Our relationship as it was, is over. Love was something else altogether.

“You are in love with someone else, Raphael,” she says as though speaking to a child. “This is not…what you want.”

This hurts. The pain in her voicehurts.

“This changes things, Camille. You know it does.”

“It changes some things, yes, but not others. You do not want to be with me and I am not going to force you into something you don’t want.”

“You’re not…forcinganything.” I sigh. “This happened to us both and we’re gonna work through it, together. Decide, together. Do it, together.” Something Finn never offered my mother. “How…I mean, do you know how far along you are?”

“Perhaps eleven weeks or so, I am not certain.”

Eleven weeks. Pre-Grammy’s. Pre-New York. Pre-Jae.

“You’re still in France?”

“Yes.”

“When are you coming back to LA?”

“I have an appointment with my doctor in LA on Friday. So I will be home on Thursday. I wanted to talk to you before saying anything to Giselle or the studio.”

I nod. “I can come home too. If that’s what you need me to do. What you want me to do?”

I can’t hide from this in Jae’s arms, as much as I want to do just that.

She hesitates a moment. “Yes. Okay.”

“I’ll look at flights now and send you the details.”

She sniffles again, some choked sad sound bubbling up from her throat.

“Look, it’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry about anything, Cam, we’re gonna figure this out. Together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home.”

It’s hours later before Jae comes stumbling, sleepily, though to the living room.

The sky is a different color to how it was when Camille told me she was carrying my baby, now a grey thing heavy with impending snow.

I still feel as lost as I did four hours ago. I’d managed to book a flight out to LAX at 5 p.m. tonight getting me there tomorrow morning. There’d been an earlier flight, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to him yet. If that’s what this is going to be. I’m terrified at how he’s going to react. My heart aches at the thought of how he might view this, my leaving. Going to Camille. I feel guilty and weighed down with mistakes I’ve not made yet.

“You did not come back to bed.” He yawns, wandering barefoot towards me.

He’s pulled on a long-sleeved sweater which falls past his wrists and uses the cuff to rub at his sleep-clogged eyes. He flops down next to me and drops his head on my shoulder with another yawn.

“Have you eaten already?”

The normality in his voice and in his line of questioning is heart-breaking. I settle my hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently. He turns his head into my neck and inhales.

“Wasn’t hungry.” I place a kiss on his sleep-ruffled hair. It’s now deeply familiar scent makes my chest constrict tightly.

Please let me have this again. Please don’t let this be the last time.

He lifts his head up to look at me then, something in my voice tickling his instinct. Then he takes in the fact that I’m dressed. His eyes look deep into mine for a few long moments, slowly coming more awake.