Page 24

My brother sits across the dining room table, grinning at me.

I smirk and shake my head.

We’ve been getting on really well these past few weeks and this time, when we talk about things, he doesn’t hide stuff from me.

We had a number of long, somewhat painful, conversations about the past and why he lied to me. We’ve shouted at each other and I’ve cried a flood of tears in anger, hurt and frustration towards his decisions.

But at the end of it all—we worked it out.

Avraam has apologized so many times I can’t even count and the fact that he never gave up trying to make me understand how sorry he was—that’s what eventually convinced me to accept it as the truth. He honestly means it when he says sorry.

Well, that convinced me and the fact that Ruslana is so madly in love with him—and I adore her. She’s incredible.

If someone so amazing can forgive my brother for kidnapping her, then obviously he isn’t a bad guy.

But I know that my brother fought for her. He truly fell in love with her and he went out of his way to show her that. He went out of his way to prove that he deserves her. When someone doesn’t stop putting in the effort—they do everything they can until the last minute—

That’s love. From both sides.

Ever since I allowed myself to forgive Avraam, I have felt lighter in my heart. But not completely.

Because I can’t un-love Rigor.

Rigor who didn’t fight for me. Rigor—who didn’t go out of his way to make me see anything at all. He just let me walk away. And I haven’t heard a word from him since that day. Not a message, not a call, nothing at all—

And despite that I still can’t un-love him.

I wish I could.

I wish I could just set fire to the passion, the tendrils of emotions wrapped tightly around my heart. I wish I could burn them all away because what is the point of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.

When love is only one sided it becomes poison. Thick and dangerous as it spreads through your veins and floods your body.

I feel heavy from it. Aching and cold inside.

I feel rejected. Unwanted and not good enough.

“Alyona?” my brother’s voice drags me from the darkness I was lost in again. I’ve been lost in dark thoughts too often lately. Slipping into a sadness that I don’t think will ever leave me. I’ll just learn to live with it in a way.

It’s the knowing that terrifies me. The fact that I know I will never feel the same way for someone again. The way Rigor made me come alive, the way he set my heart aflame with wild passion—no matter who I meet or where I go—it will never be him.

And that terrifies me.

“Alyona?” my brother says my name again.

“Mm?”

“You’ve been playing with your food for the last ten minutes. Are you going to eat it or keep pushing it around the plate?”

I grin.

“I was just thinking.” I shrug, sticking my fork into a piece of chicken in amongst the colorful salad on my plate.

“Think about what?” he asks.

I shrug again. My heart gets too heavy every time I let my thoughts slip like that. “I’m not very hungry right now,” I say, standing up. “I’m going up to my room for a bit.”

Avraam nods, but there is a sadness in his eyes that aches into my chest. I don’t want him to worry about me. But what can I do? I can’t pretend everything is perfect and good and happy. I need to work through this in whatever way I can.

Walking up the stairs, I am drained and distant from myself.

I wish so badly that things were different. I wish that somehow Rigor and I could have been something.

But that must be another life or another dimension somewhere.

Somewhere out there in a wide universe of life—somewhere—we are together and happy.

But not here.

I flop face down onto my bed and let the blankets absorb the tears falling from my eyes.

My heart is pulling so tightly I can barely breathe.

It’s terrible when there is nothing you can do.

I can’t force him to love me.

I can’t even force him to give me a chance.

The beauty and the tragedy of free will is that no matter how much I know in my heart that we are good for each other—he is entirely free to see and experience something completely different.

I don’t know how long I cry for this time—I just cry until my body is too tired to carry on and I drift off to sleep.

It’s late when Ruslana’s gentle voice pulls me awake. The room is dark apart from the soft yellow light of my bedside lamp which she must have turned on.

“I made you tea.” She says, setting it down on the bedside table.

“Thanks,” I mumble, rolling over and rubbing my face to wake myself up. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.” She smiles.

“Oh—well then I’ll just go back to sleep, I can get an early night.”

“No, sweetie. It’s seven in the morning,” she giggles.

“What?” I stammer, sitting up and rubbing my eyes again.

Ruslana picks up the remote control for the bedroom blinds and presses the button letting warm morning light flood into the room.

Oh my word.

I must have slept fourteen or fifteen hours.

Damn.

What is wrong with me?

“Avraam is waiting for your downstairs. He wants to have breakfast with you.”

“I need to shower first. I feel kind of groggy and gross.”

“There’s no rush. Come down when you’re ready.” She smiles.

Ruslana walks away from my bed, out of the open door and I listen to her footsteps as she makes her way downstairs.

I can’t believe I slept that long. I didn’t even dream. I must have been exhausted. And worse—I’m still tired enough to roll right over and go back to sleep.

I groan loudly as I swing my legs off the edge of the bed and sit there for a moment trying to gather my thoughts and wake up properly. But it’s not working. I guess a cold shower will be the best thing for me.

Ignoring the tea, because I clearly need something a lot more double-espresso-vibes, I head to the shower and flick the water on.

When I climb underneath it I shudder in fright.

The cold bites into my skin and forces me awake in a way I wasn’t ready for.

But as my body adjusts it starts to feel better.

The cold refreshes me, clears my head and wakes me up properly.

Trying to keep the refreshed feeling going, I pick out my favorite jeans and a cute crop top—they always say—if you look good you feel good—so I may as well try everything to help myself feel better.

I even go as far as touching on a little bit of make-up.

When I glance in the mirror, I don’t see myself though. I see someone with a broken heart pretending to me ok.

I turn away from the mirror quickly, not liking the way my eyes pierce into my own soul with the truth of how my heart is shattered into a thousand tiny shards.

I make my way down stairs. Not hungry, but I’ll eat a small breakfast with Avraam because I have to appreciate the people in my life and spend time with them.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says cheerfully when I walk into the living room where he is sitting on the sofa with his leg folded over his knee as he reads the morning newspaper.

“Heya,” I say, slumping into the sofa opposite him.

He folds the paper and tosses it onto the coffee table. His eyes are locked onto me.

“Aly, we need to talk,” he says softly.

I sigh. If I talk—I might start crying and I’ve just put in so much effort to feel decent this morning.

“Avraam, we really don’t have to talk.”

“We do—I’m worried about you.”

“Well, there isn’t much you can do for me—I just need to sort through my own thoughts—but I’ll be ok.”

He huffs and leans forward, looking even more intently at me.

“What is wrong?” he asks very pointedly.

“Nothing—I just—it’s—I’m just adjusting to things,” I stammer.

“No, Aly, I can tell there is something specific bothering you. You can tell me anything you know. Remember, just last week we promised—no more secrets. That goes both ways. It wasn’t just for me.”

We did promise.

I made him promise first—never to lie to me again. To be open and honest about things no matter how bad he thinks it is.

And then he made me promise the same thing.

And now—well how can I lie to him when I never want him to lie to me ever again?

I sigh loudly. Making it clear I’m not happy about being questioned so early in the morning.

“Can I have a coffee first? Then we can talk?”

“Lucky for you I already have a fresh pot brewing. Give me a second. I’ll pour you a cup.”

Avraam leaves the living room and while he is gone, I mutter to myself.

“Just tell him the truth. It doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. Be honest, it might even help you feel better.”

Avraam is quick in returning and sets the coffee down in front of me.

Before he’s had a chance to sit down, I blurt it out.

“I love him.”

The relief of those words pours from my body like a tidal wave and with it I am fighting tears again.

Avraam sits down and looks towards me. “You love him?” he asks.

“Rigor,” I sigh. “I fell in love with him—and I want to be with him, but I know he doesn’t feel the same way and it’s tearing me apart. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to heal from this type of pain. It’s eating away at me—every second of every day.”

I am crying now, the confession breaking into my defenses. I was forcing myself to hold it together but now that I’m being open and honest, the emotions are no longer clipped neatly into place behind closed doors.

They are out.

They are clear for everyone to see.

Avraam is clenching his jaw tightly and nodding.

“You and Ruslana are lucky you know. You two found love in an impossible way and it worked out. It’s not like that except in romance movies and beautiful books. It’s not like that in real life. You guys should be grateful.”

“Aly—”

“No—it’s ok. You don’t have to say anything. It feels good just to let it out. I know you can’t fix it or take away the pain. I need to work through this on my own. But I appreciate you listening to me.”

“Aly, are you sure you love him?” Avraam asks with the most intense tone I’ve heard from him since he apologized to me. That genuine depth in his voice. The sincerity. It makes me pause and my eyes widen as I stare at him.

I sigh and nod. “I’m sure,” I say quietly. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my entire life.”

That is when Rigor walks in.

I stare at him in utter disbelief.

I must be dreaming.

I must still be asleep because there is no chance in hell Rigor could just walk into my brother’s house so calmly, so easily. I glance from rigor to Avraam, waiting for a war to break out, but they are both just staring at me.

Rigor looks—tired—but as gorgeous as ever. His light hair and shadowed beard are a little scruffier than usual, his piercing grey eyes are stabbing into my soul—and his lips are curled into the slightest smile.

“Ri—Rigor—“ I stammer, clenching my fists in my lap.

What in the world is going on?

“Hi, Aly.” He smiles and my heart flip-flops at the sight of it. Fuck. He is beautiful.

“What are you doing here? Were you here the whole time—did you hear everything?” I ask, feeling the horror of realization flooding me. He must have heard my pathetic confession. My cheeks grow scarlet, burning bright red, aflame with embarrassment.

He bites his lip.

“I heard what you said,” he admits.

I stare at Avraam. “Avraam.” Why does he looks so calm? His enemy is standing in his living room and he hasn’t even stood up.

I tear my eyes from both of them, down to the whisps of steam curling from my coffee.

I haven’t even had a sip.

I pick up the mug and focus on it. Nothing else.

I take a long, slow sip and wait for the caffeine to soak into me.

Another sip.

What is going on?

I set the coffee down and both men are still staring at me.

Rigor takes a step towards me and my heart beats faster.

“Aly, will you come with me?”

“Where?” I stammer, still racing to process what is happening right now. “It’s been almost two months since I saw you. You didn’t contact me even once. Nothing. Complete silence. And now you walk in here and ask me to go somewhere with you? Why?” the anger sparks inside me, a cover for the pain. It’s always easier to be angry than hurt. It’s easier to lash out than to try to understand. And I’ve been in so much pain these last two months without Rigor that the amount of anger I need to hide that pain is extraordinary.

Rigor doesn’t react to my outburst. He keeps smiling gently. His eyes are soft and filled with tenderness. It’s breaking me down, but the confusion is so intense.

“I want to show you something,” he says, holding out his hand.

Without thinking about it I lift my hand to place it in his, but then pause, looking at Avraam. Why hasn’t he said anything?

Why hasn’t he told Rigor to leave?

My brother nods, a quiet smile on his face.

He planned this. Both of them. They planned all of this. They worked together and whatever is going on—Avraam is fine about me leaving with Rigor. The shock of knowing that sends a small thrill of hope searing into my heart. Hope I am to scared to allow inside me. Hope that scares me.

I set my hand in Rigor’s and immediately sparks of electricity shoot through me. Closing my eyes, I stand up and he reaches out and places his hand on my lower back. It makes me dizzy—his touch—the memory of how amazing it feels.

He leads me out to the car and as I climb in, I think to myself—thank goodness I wore my favorite jeans. A small smile touches my lips. But I push it away. I’m too scared to get hopeful. I have no idea what he wants to show me.