Page 45

Visha

At five a.m., I hear the front door open and shut with a loud thud.

I step out of the bedroom and into the living room where he stumbles over his feet, visibly drunk. “Aoi?”

Dulled and dazed blue eyes peek up at me and I get confirmation. He doesn’t address me and simply slumps on a chair, reeking of booze.

“Did you drink?” I ask, reaching for him but he slaps my hand away.

Barely looking at me he snarls, “Don’t touch me.”

I take a step back, appalled by his reaction and yet he’s right. I stepped out of line by insulting him as I did, and now he’s angry and upset.

God, I’m trash. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Hah, right. How convenient it is to apologize after the deed is done.” He barres his teeth. “Next time you feel the need to say shit like that just shut your mouth.”

I stand in the middle of the room, speechless. Never, and I mean it, never has he ever been as hostile towards me. Not even when I throw a tantrum because of Jason.

“I was mad and upset but that doesn’t justify what I said. I didn’t mean it, I swear.” I graze the back of his hand with my fingers, but he slaps them away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps. “Your apology doesn’t mean shit to me right now for the record.”

My knees hit the ground in a loud thud. “Aoi, please.” Tears threaten to spill, and I don’t bother holding them in. They simply soak up my cheeks as I cling to his pants. “I- I’m sorry. I’m-”

“I’m glad you’re leaving. After all, this was never meant to last. You’re better off with that wraith and I’ll be less exhausted every day from busting my ass to raise you.”

His words stab me like a million swords, and I clutch my chest. “No. You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that! Aoi please!”

He looks away from me, averting his gaze toward the windows. The usual soft and unblemished skin of his face is now red and sunken from exhaustion.

Did I really never notice how tired he really is? I knew he was overworked but not to this point. “Don’t abandon me. I’m begging you, don’t leave me.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes flutter shut and though I can see the pain contorting his features, I don’t see any remorse.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I jump to my feet with immense difficulty and drag myself to the bedroom.

How can he say that? Why would he say that?

I bury myself under the sheets and as the heavy weight on my chest sinks me deeper into the mattress, I sob quietly.

I knew I was a burden, of course I knew that, but for him to straight up say it to my face? I just don’t know what to do. It burns and aches, ripping apart the little hope I had.

I expect these kinds of crude words from people like Jason but not from Aoi. Never from Aoi.

They say drunk words are sober thoughts. Does that mean he meant what he said? Does that mean he never wanted me in the first place? And that he only sees me as a huge burden? As a workload he’s glad to get rid of?

***

The second my alarm rings at seven a.m., I get dressed and rush out of the room.

I don’t want to see Aoi for now. Not when he’s in that pathetic state and definitely not when he clearly doesn’t want to see me either. He’s still slumped over the table when I walk to the door.

Sighing, I turn around and carefully drop a blanket on his shoulders before I head out.

Olivia texted me back the second I messaged her to ask whether I could come by. So now I’m on my way to her place, early as fuck and exhausted as hell.

Angry tides pull me away but I’m still here, I’m still afraid. I don’t want him to hate me. I can’t live like this. He’s my sole reason to exist. Without him I’m nothing. I want to reach for his hand and hold him but now I’m too scared to dare.

The whitewashed door of Olivia’s small apartment opens up and she greets me with a casual smile. “What’s wrong? You sounded-” I throw myself in her arms and let myself unravel. “Oh.”

She hesitates at first then holds me tightly, rubbing my back in soothing circles. She doesn’t ask me anything but rather leads me into her room and closes the door behind her.

I sit on the edge of her bed, hands cupping my face. “He- he said-”

I breathe hard, attempting to explain what happened but I just can’t. My lungs are heavy and full of misery. It swells and swells, cutting off my respiratory system.

I thought I’d be fine and that it isn’t such a big deal because he said it while drunk. It doesn’t have to mean anything. He was just angry and so was I.

His eyes were out of focus and bloodshot and dull. He wasn’t in his right mind. He didn’t mean what he said. Right? He didn’t, right ?

“Visha, look at me,” she demands, kneeling down in front of me and grabbing my hands, pulling them away from my soaked face. “What happened? What did he say? Is it Aoi?”

I nod, sniffling and wiping my eyes. The tears won’t stop flowing and my vision blurs. “He said- ” I start but remembering the way he glared at me and spat those words, shatters me once again. “He hates me! Liv, he hates me.”

I can’t breathe. My voice gets stuck in my throat, and I cry until I’m shriveled up and dried out. I spill out in waves, breaking and falling apart as I reach for a semblance of hope.

“What do you mean he hates you? Why would he say that?” She frantically shakes my shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

I shake my head gasping at the little amount of oxygen I muster to inhale. “He said that he’s glad I’m leaving.”

“What?!” She jumps to her feet, raising her voice. “How could he? What the fuck?”

Striding around her dimly lit room, she grabs a random pencil lying in her way and snaps it in half. “After all the time you guys spent together, he has the audacity to tell you that he’s fucking glad you’re leaving? Are you kidding me?”

I grab her arm, halting her from turning into the Hulk. “Wait Liv, it’s my fault…”

“Huh? How’s it your fault?”

Her medium long hair is braided and she’s wearing an oversized black shirt with a stain on the neckline, probably from dying her hair.

I motion to her to sit. “Last night, I said horrible things to him because I was angry and jealous at how close he’s with Jason,” I confess, sniffling. “He left and only came back at five this morning. Wasted and still pissed.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s allowed to say shit like that. So, what if he’s pissed? He’s the adult, you’re the kid,” she fumes, gesticulating like crazy.

I lean back on her bed and stare at her ceiling and the humidity spots. “I know but he’s right to be mad. I told him that the only reason he sacrifices so much for me isn’t because he loves me but because he doesn’t value himself enough.”

The room plunges into silence and suddenly a hand grabs my shirt, pulling me into a sitting position. “You said what?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Just because you’re jealous doesn’t mean you can spit that kind of horrible crap at him!”

“You’re right and I know that! I’m a piece of shit and I know that. He’s right to hate me, I would too but,” my voice breaks. “I can’t live without him.”

I’m so lost.

I’m building walls but I can’t stop feeling as though the person I call home is slipping between my fingers. All I’ve been doing is keeping secrets and lying to him. Then I snap at him out of childish jealousy and fear of losing him. Of course, he’s sick of me. Anyone would be.

I’m a nuisance, a hindrance he can’t wait to get rid of.