"Please," I beg, my hands clenching at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her. "Forgive me. Come back to Chicago with me. I can't... I can't let you out of my sight. I need you where I can protect you. Please, Della. Let me fix this."
* * *
Della
I listen. I let every word, every ounce of his pain and his guilt, wash over me. This is it. The confession I needed to hear for so long. And my heart aches for him, for us, for what it could have been.
Tears stream down my face, but my voice, when I speak, is steady.
"I love you, Dorian," I say, and I see the relief flood his eyes. "I loved you from that first night we met. I loved every day since, and I will love you till the end of time. I know now I can’t fight it anymore. You are part of my soul, my body, my thoughts. I do not want to live a life without you."
He moves to step toward me, his eyes glowing, a hopeful smile blooming on his face but I hold up a hand.
"But I can't livewithyou, now."
His face freezes, the hope draining away.
"Della... don't. Don't do this," he pleads.
"I have to," I say, my voice stronger now. “What would have happened to us if I wouldn’t have come to the conference? Would you have ever looked for me?"
He falters, no answer ready.
"Della, I..."
“It doesn’t matter," I cut him off, but gently. “Not anymore. I have to live my life the wayIwant, not as a consequence to your decisions. Thinking back… I waited for you so long. The moment I was offered the chance to return to Chicago, I took it. I told myself I accepted it because it was a stepahead in my career and I missed Chicago and Jane and Silvia. But—if I am being completely true to myself—a small, well hidden part of me, hoped to see you again.”
My eyes are holding tears as I turn towards the water, my fingers finding the ruby. He lifts his hand, like he’s trying to touch me, but he stops. He knows this torrent has to run its course.
“For five years, I've been a ghost. Hiding. Running from myself. Putting on a mask of success, while I was dead inside. I only survived because I shoved everything—the attack, the pain, the loss—in a triple locked drawer in my head and made myself not feel. Never talked about it. Then I came back, and you... you made me feel again. The time at the lake house was a dream I dreamt since I woke up from that coma... I thought you were my savior. I thought you will be the one to 'fix' me."
I take a deep breath, the salty air stinging my lungs.
"But last night... hell happened again. That feeling of being helpless, the hate, the pain… sent me back to Andy’s attack. And it's all tangled up with you. With your past. I look at you, and I see the man I love, but I also see the man whose life almost got me killed. Twice.”
“Della, I never thought I could put you in danger. I want to protect you” he insists, his voice ragged with fear.
“I need to protectmyself, Dorian. I know you would do anything to keep me safe but, right now, I am not safe with you. Not until, I untangle myself frommypast."
"I'll help you," he says, his voice desperate. "We'll get therapists, we'll—"
"I—I have to do it," I say, cutting him off gently. "Called a therapist already. I have to savemyself. I need to find the Della I lost, the one who loved her life, who danced, who wasn’t afraid of feeling.”
“What are going to do?” he asks, voice low.
“I’m taking a leave from work till the transfer is being processed; I talked to Greg. I will have to return to Romania for the work visa.” I reply in a steady voice.
“You cannot leave. Not again, Della” he argues, a note of command creeping into his tone.
“I am planning on staying, Dorian,” I reassure him. “Build the life I once dreamed of. But if that’s the process, I will follow it.”
He looks broken.
“I don’t want to lose you, Della. What can I do for you?” he whispers, finally surrendering.
My eyes lock on his as I take his hand.
“There is something… I thought we could do. Together.”
