Like he took my heart with him when he left.
“It’s dark outside.”
It’s dark in here too.
“I’ll be fine. I… I need to go.”
Jared hesitates, but then he nods. “I’ll message you about the details.”
“Thanks. Do you… do you need anything?”
His jaw tightens. “Nothing you can give me.”
And then he turns away, dismissing me.
I wish I could say that it hurt. But everything feels numb.
Silently, I collect my things, packing them up in my suitcase. I clean as I go, putting away the few items left out.
The couch. The sideboard. The closet. The furniture we bought together.
I can’t look at the bed. At the covers, still rumpled.
I pause in front of the wall. In front of all the places we never got to visit. Jared’s eyes burn into my back, but he doesn’t sayanything as I reach for the picture of Brazil and fold it up, slipping it into my bag.
I have surprisingly little to show for what feels like such a big part of my life.
Eleven weeks.
I clear my throat as I walk toward the door. “You… you will message me? About the funeral?”
Don’t lock me out of this. Please.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” My hand shakes as I reach for my umbrella, hanging beside the door. “Bye, Jared.”
A pause. “Bye, Emilia.”
And then I’m gone, too.
I walk to my apartment slowly, dragging my suitcase behind me. My umbrella lights the way, but for once, the darkness doesn’t bother me.
Maybe because I can hear him.
I’m leaving soon.
Do something ridiculous with me, Emmy.
I adore the ground you walk on, Emmy Marsters.
All the little moments, baby.
I shove open the broken door, trudge up the steps before I slip inside and flick the lights on.
We danced in the rain. And when I walked you home, we went inside, and I never left you. Not for the rest of our lives, Em. Somewhere in the universe, there’s another Emmy Marsters, and another Ben Bennett, and they’re happy.
I lean back against my door, my legs slipping out from under me until I sink down to the floor.
