‘What? You’re sure you just want to throw in the towel – take it off the market altogether? How about you list it with a local agent – that way, you’ll have more time to think it through?’ he says.
I can tell by his voice that he’s taken aback by my decision.
‘Thank you, Jonathan,’ I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘But I’ve decided I’m not going to put it up for auction again, at least not yet.’
His voice lowers. ‘Why the change of heart?’
The words spill out before I can stop them. ‘It’s too soon. I’ve just come to terms with my past, and something inside me is telling me there might be more to uncover, and even to treasure. I need to hold on to that house for a little while longer, just to collect my thoughts and see if life has anything else in store for me.’
Jonathan clears his throat. When he speaks, his tone sits somewhere between shock and curiosity. ‘There may be some disappointed investors, but I understand. If you feel there’s more to uncover, it’s important you take the time you need.’ His next words carry a hint of affection. ‘You are sure about this, Daisy? Even with your new knowledge, you might never find the answers you’re looking for. There are no guarantees – for anyone.’
‘I know, Jonathan,’ I reply, my voice holding an unfamiliar determination, excitement coursing through me. ‘But for now, it’s what I want. I need to trust my intuition.’
Silence settles between us for a moment. It’s an odd kind of camaraderie, understanding someone’s choices without necessarily agreeing with them.
‘I respect your decision, Daisy,’ he says. ‘I’ll take care of it for you right away.’
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I end the call with Jonathan. The weight of my decision hangs in the air. I’m proud of standing up for Moya, but I can’t help but feel guilty about how this affects Ash. I’ve upended all our plans, our future together now uncertain. Yet, deep down, there’s a part of me that wonders if this delay is a blessing in disguise. Are we really ready for this leap?
I walk over to the window and take a deep breath. The crisp autumn air fills my lungs as I stare across the tiny communal garden, the soft hues of countless falling leavespainting wholesome, warm colours across the chilly scene. The trees’ leaves are rustling in the gentle breeze, creating a soothing soundtrack to my internal conflict. They remind me of the day Ash and I first met. It was this time of year. I stood, wrapped up in a scarf and bobble hat, waiting for him to show up with the keys so I could view this flat. I barely noticed him until he struck up a conversation, and then the words seemed to flow so easily, his optimism, the energy, the chemistry. The memory makes me smile, and yet I can’t help but wonder if the magic’s gone. Or if there’ll only ever be magic when Ash is getting what he wants. And what if we want different things? Watching that proposal on the beach on my first day in Ireland made me question if I’m being selfish for expecting joy in my own life. We’ve both had to make some concessions in order to get where we are now, but when does compromise become sacrifice? How much is too much to lose?
I realise how much our future had become intertwined with the sale of The Lake House. Yet, perhaps it’s that very interconnectedness that caused these doubts to grow, to fester. With real courage and determination, I prepare myself to move forward. I need to communicate with Ash and tell him how I feel. This isn’t just about the house anymore; it’s about our future, whatever shape or form it may take, whether we’re together or not.
‘I need to talk to you, Ash,’ I say as I return from the kitchen to the sofa, my eyes meeting his. I explain what was said in the call and why I don’t want to sell the house for now.
He furrows his brow and looks down at his feet, saying nothing. After a moment of silence, he nods slowly before sitting down heavily with a deep sigh. ‘I thought we had a plan,’ he murmurs, looking up at me. ‘Now it’s all gone up in smoke.’ His voice is filled with hurt and confusion.
I reach out my hand to take his, but there’s no warmth in our touch anymore, only distance, but I don’t want to hurt him or cause any pain. ‘I understand how you feel, Ash,’ I say softly. ‘But think about it. We seemed to be moving so fast. Maybe this is a sign that we’re not meant to move forward together. It’s time we take a hard look at what we really want, as individuals.’
‘So, you’re asking me to change what I want?’ he says.
‘And you’re asking me not to,’ I reply.
I take a deep breath and look into his eyes. He looks so desperate, it breaks my heart.
‘Ash, I’m sorry,’ I say softly. ‘But I don’t think this is something we can fix with words or even more time together. Our differences have been gently pulling us apart for months now. We aren’t meant to be together.’
He shakes his head in disbelief. His hands grip mine tightly as he pleads with me to reconsider. His voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, his words coming out in a desperate plea for me to stay with him, for us to keep moving forward together.
‘I know you can make somebody the happiest girl in the world, it’s just that I don’t think it’s me, and deep down I think you know it too…’
He looks up at me and speaks after an eternity of silence. ‘I understand what you’re saying,’ he says. ‘But… I don’t get it. And that’s where you’re right, because I don’t get you, Daisy. I don’t get you anymore; I don’t get how you want anything else than what we could have right here.’
Despite the pain in his voice, I can feel the love he has for me – and his fear of the unknown. But deep down I know that this is the right thing to do.
‘So, what are we going to do now?’ he asks me.
Taking a deep breath, I make my decision clear. ‘I’m going to follow my gut and not sell the house. As for us…’ I shake my headslowly and say in a soft voice, ‘I think this is goodbye.’ I take one last look at him before gently pulling my hands from his grasp.
Ash looks at me, his face betraying the hurt and confusion he’s feeling, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply nods and walks out of the flat, away from me and everything we thought we wanted, slamming the door behind him.
It’s over. It’s done.
I know this feeling. I can taste it. I felt it as I followed my mother’s hearse down the street. Just a handful of us, her few close friends and my social workers.
Grief.
Grief for the childhood I never had with my father.
