Alex pushes his phone toward me, but I don’t take it.
"I don’t accept this, I refuse to accept it, I will never accept this, Alex," I say with a breaking voice.
"You don’t understand. Our case is the worst. We’re not simply incompatible, we are complete opposites. Our bodies will never match."
"Don’t say that," I whisper. "Don’t say it out loud. It hurts."
And again I lose consciousness because I cannot accept this reality, my mind pushes away from it like a drunk man pushing off walls, staggering, falling, hitting the ground again.
When I wake again we’re still lying the same way, but it’s even darker. Alex is quiet, unmoving.
But this time understanding rises inside me.
I finally reach that state, as if while I was unconscious my mind carved tunnels, processed everything, formed the truth I was afraid to say. It’s the end.
It’s simply the end.
I know what I will have to do, there is only one path for me.
I sit up. I see my backpack lying nearby, my pink diary about Alex sticking out of it.
I pull it out and something inside me surges.
Four years in love with the perfect boy, and Fate just erased them.
It gave everything and then took everything back.
In a sudden wave of anger I grab the edge of the diary and rip it apart, tearing it into pieces. I don’t know why, I take it out on it because it represents the years that are now dissolving into nothing. I tear it, shred it, throw it on the floor.
Alex curls in on himself but says nothing. He’s pale and quiet.
I stand and go to the closet where I already brought most of my things, take them out and pack them into suitcases.
Alex still lies on the floor, motionless.
I place the suitcases by the door.
I open my phone and make a transfer.
"This house belongs to you now, Alex. All the money I earned on this tour and the previous concerts, I just transferred it to you."
Alex is still silent, saying nothing, and I have the feeling he’s on the edge of passing out again just like I did earlier.
"Goodbye."
The worst word imaginable. It cuts me in half, guts me out.
I force it out like a groan, and I leave the house with my suitcases.
Silence is the only thing that sees me off.
PART TWO
LAKE
28 Years Ago
With trembling hands I grab my son under his little arms and lift him, sliding him up my stomach toward my chest.
