If you’re lucky, it’s reciprocated. If you’re not, you die.
It’s where I am now. Living through a slow, painful death.
It’s three in the morning, and I’m in front of Wolf’s bedroom door, waiting on the hard floor.
I lean my head against the wood behind me, hearing nothing from the other side. Either he’s in there and he’s ignoring me… or he hasn’t come home at all. Regardless, I’ll be here when he shows up. I need to talk to him. Even if he has completely shut me off.
The letter is clutched in my hand. Two pages–not enough to say everything I need to, but long enough to get my foot in the door. If only I can get him to listen… to let me tell him how sorry I am…
I don’t deserve his attention, I know that. I took away the most important thing in the world for him, and all he did was love me, protect me—even when I didn’t even know he was. It’s selfish, perhaps, my persistence. But I can’t just… go on with my life. Thereisno life after Wolfgang. I don’t want it. Never again.
The sound of steps makes my pulse quicken. It’s quiet, muffled, and I would’ve missed it had I not been prickling my ears for a sign of any kind.
“Wolf?” I say, my voice breaking through the silence of the night. “I know you’re in there. I know you locked your door to keep me out.”
I get to my knees, sniffing as I stretch out the folded paper. It makes a shuffling noise in my trembling hands. “And I know you don’t want to see me right now… I—I understand. So I wrote you this,” I say, sliding the letter under the door and pushing it inside.
I put my palm against the door. “You don’t have to talk to me at all. Just please… read it? Please. I’m begging you.”
I wait in silence for his response, so fucking sick of only hearing my own voice. I need him to say something, even if it’s just telling me to leave him alone. I just…
Minutes pass, and eventually, I rest my head back against the door, curling up with my knees at my chest. My head dips every now and then, exhaustion gnawing at me. But I force myself to stay awake. What if he changes his mind? What if he chooses to come out and talk to me? I can’t miss that.
But my traitorous fucking body does it anyway. Because the moment I open my eyes again, I’m not seeing the hallway. I’m seeing my window, the curtains drawn back the same way as I left them yesterday, the sun shining into my eyes.
A long, pained sigh leaves my chest.
How did I even end up back in my room?
As I get up on my elbows, the answer rings in my head, breaking my heart into even smaller pieces. Just like the pieces of the letter I wrote last night. They’re scattered everywhere. On my body, on the bed, on the floor… my words now float into a space where no one’s ever going to hear them.
He got my message. Carried me to my bed, tore up the letter, and left.
“Because you might remain my wife on paper. But you and I? We’re done.”
He took care of me, but only because he takes care of things that belong to him. He told me this over and over. My heart yearns to read more into this gesture than what it really is–an obligation. Something he forced himself to do because the law binds us. Because we share a last name.
I hate it.
And yet… he touched me, carried me. I wish I’d been awake to feel him on my skin.
Getting up, I push the remains of my letter off my chest. Sadness washes over me, and I reach for my new phone on the nightstand.
I dial Sasha’s number and wait… And wait.
Pick up. Please, pick up.
“Hello?” he says, his voice bringing tears to my eyes instead of making me feel better. Now… I’ll have to confess to my mentor as well.
“Hi, Sasha.”
“Victoria… ? Where are you? Are you hurt?”
I nod, even if he can’t see it. I’m hurt. Just not in the way he’s asking me.
Letting out a shaky breath, I say, “I messed up, Sasha. I ruined everything.” I bring my hand to my mouth, sobbing into it.
“Hey, hey,” he coos. “It’s alright. It’s okay. Tell me what hurts.”
